


Cakewalk

by milkandhoney



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Additional Tags to Be Added, Angst, Astounding Acrobatics Of The Silken Spider, Drama, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Faygo The Clown, Fluff, Humanstuck, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mystery, Mystic Megido, No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Romance, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Tavros Nitram And His Magical Menagerie, The Exceptionally Unexceptional Derse Twins, The Harley Girls, Tightrope Pyrope, Vaudeville AU, Virgo Starr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:40:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3573422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkandhoney/pseuds/milkandhoney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat Vantas is the stage manager of a popular vaudeville theater indebted to The Mob. John Egbert is a runaway with nimble fingers and an excess of grist. </p><p>Easy answers don't make easy solutions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gotta Get A Problem

**Author's Note:**

> _Why must we open all other doors?_
> 
> _We tied them up well._

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat Vantas leaves the window open. A problem named John Egbert.

Karkat Vantas’ office is stuffy in every sense of the word. He’s only been gone a week, but apparently that’s just enough time to a room to go stale. The air is cloying and musty, even with the largest window open to the summer night. The furniture is all dark wood and clean lines, a utilitarian approach devoid of extraneous details. The closest thing to decor are the books strewn across the floor, piled by interest or lack thereof. A layer of dust coats the large desk in the center of the room and the rug could use a beating.

Needless to say, he hasn’t exactly had time to clean.

He feels like he hasn’t had time to do anything lately, something Karkat suspects as the number one reason he resents being made to wait. Sitting on the floor of the unlit room for fifteen minutes now, he’s done a remarkable job of trying not to explode.

Checking his watch by the light of a streetlamp outside, Karkat irritably marks the time in the notebook balanced on his knee. He’s finishing up when someone tiptoes into the room, only to immediately stumble over a stack of novels near the door.

“Gah!”

Karkat peers around the foot of his desk, gesturing impatiently.

“About time, genius.”

The figure visibly tenses, then sighs with relief.

“I was afraid you’d left.” John hurries over, dropping to the ground. Karkat scoots back to make room.

“I should have. You’re late.”

“Sorry Mr. Vantas,” John simpers, in a tone that implies the exact opposite. Suddenly his eyes grow wide as he takes in Karkat’s appearance.

“You didn’t tell me there was a dress code. Are we headed somewhere swanky? ”

Tonight Karkat is dressed in his best suit, his dark curls styled to perfection. It’s a far cry from the work shirts and sweaters he usually wears, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and his hair standing on end. By now he’s used to the surprised reactions, even if he finds them vaguely insulting. But this is the first time John’s seen him in formal wear. The itch for approval makes Karkat irritable because he knows better than to care, yet he’s sitting up straighter.

God, he should just pitch himself out the window and save himself the trouble.

“Yeah, Egbert. We’re going to your funeral. Casket for one.”

"Swoon."

John’s eyes continue to roam, falling to the open notebook balanced on his lap. Karkat follows his line of sight and scowls, pointedly snapping it shut and sliding it behind him. John chuckles.

“Fuck off. I told you I’d have an hour, _at best_. I have to get back out there before anyone comes looking for me.”

“I know.”

“What took you so long?”

“I got lost. And,” he adds as an afterthought, “I kind of suck with directions.”

“Clearly.”

John rolls his eyes.“You were the one who told me to wait until after dark. It’s not like that helped.”

“So the coast would be clear!” Karkat protests, momentarily forgetting to keep his voice down. “Not that it matters, since you sauntered down _the goddamn hallway_.”

“I blended in with the crowd,” John maintains. He adjusts the dark frames perched on his nose. “Everyone was talking about the show, no one had time to notice me.”

Punctuating his point, they’re interrupted by the sound of an audience’s muffled laughter, followed by polite applause. Karkat glances furtively towards the door.

The auditorium is situated down the corridor, but on a good night the noise travels all the way back to the theater’s back office. Tavros’ routine must have just ended, meaning Kanaya will be introducing The Derse Twins next.

While Karkat loathes to admit it, The Exceptionally Unexceptional Derse Twins™ are one of the theater’s best selling acts. Their ability to keep a rapt audience on the edge of their seat (and more importantly), out of Karkat’s hair is something he counts on as stage manager. More than once he’s used them as a diversion to solve some crisis backstage, the last of which involved one of Tavros’ trained dogs and a particularly obstinate tuba.

As a result, the more cunning of the twins began hinting darkly about being taken advantage of, making Karkat reluctant to cross that bridge again. The last thing he needs is another shrewd person questioning his every move. If he wants to keep from raising any more suspicions, he needs to be back in time for the finale.

John claps a hand on Karkat’s shoulder and squeezes, rousing him from his thoughts.

“Don’t look so worried.” His smile is brilliant, though there’s a nervous edge that implies his words may be for both of them. “We’ll be okay.”

Karkat says nothing, but he can feel his face flush. _We’ll be okay_. The words feels important, like something he’s supposed to fold and tuck to his chest for safe keeping. He squirms out of John’s grip and the other boy coughs awkwardly.

“A-anyway. I brought what you asked for.”

John removes a small pouch from his back pocket and holds it out in the air between them. Karkat stares at it with the apprehension of a snake posed to bite.

“Karkat.”

“Yeah, okay. Shut up.”

Taking the bag, Karkat opens it and pours the contents into his cupped palm. Out falls a handful of glittering stones, luminous even in the dim light. Each jewel is about the size of a quarter and smooth to the touch. When he lifts one for a closer examination, it emits a faint glow, warm and pulsing between his fingers. He turns the stone over and over again.

Karkat is no expert, but he’s fairly certain he’s never held anything this valuable in his life.

When he looks up John is beaming victoriously, like he can sense just how rare a silenced Vantas is.

“They’re called ‘grist’,” he says, gesturing to the gems. “They look like jewels but they’re actually worth a lot more.”

Karkat nods. He’s heard of grist before. Way back they were harvested for their potential as an alternate energy source and were supposed to revolutionize the building industry. However instead they became recognized as a form of currency, and greedy corporations tapped the supply until there was nothing left. Until now.

“They’re hot.”

John nods. “I think that’s an energy thing.”

Karkat sets his mouth. “No. I mean, they’re _hot_. Stolen.”

“They’re not,” John tells him, looking insulted by the implication. “I mean, I didn’t steal them. They were given to me. Sorta.”

Karkat snorts.

“ _Listen_. Everything happened really fast. The point is that I don’t want them and I can’t use them. But you can.” He scoots closer and grips Karkat’s hand with both of his own. “There’s more where that came from and I’m the only one who knows where they are. I can help you!”

At the word ‘help’, Karkat comes back to his senses. Avoiding John’s eager gaze he returns the jewels to their pouch, placing them on the floor between John and himself, like a dividing line. Outside the open window, a chorus of insects hum shrilly.

“And what exactly is your help going to cost?”

“What if I don’t want anything?”

Fat chance of that. “Only thieves and liars offer something for nothing.”

“Hmmm..” John gazes up at the ceiling, like he’s mulling it over.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

John runs fingers through his dark hair. He has a cowlick that refuses to stay down.

“I had one idea, but you’re going to think it’s weird.”

Karkat shakes his head in reply. “Egbert. I spend more than half my time with a group of idiot savants. I’m hiding on the floor, behind a desk with a guy I’ve only known for the better part of a week, who may or may not be a fugitive. My weird-tolerance is so goddamn admirable, you should pin a fucking medal on its chest.”

“And you work here.”

“And I also work here,” Karkat agrees.

“Maybe you could use another employee.” The words come out casually, but he’s picking at the frayed carpet.

Karkat scoffs. “Right. Because I sold you on it with my glamorous description.”

“I’m serious.” John ticks each point off on his fingers. “I have no money, I don’t know this town, and I have no place to stay.”

“And I’m responsible for that?”

“It’s not like hiding from the police gives me a lot of options. What else am I supposed to do?”

“Go home, you dumbass!” Karkat heroically keeps himself from slapping the back of the John's head. Honestly, no one can not be this dim. “Go back to your nice house in the suburbs, explain what happened, and let it be an idiotic story about how you failed to sow your rebellious oats!”

John’s blue eyes turn frosty. Undaunted, Karkat matches his icy glare with one of his own.

“That’s what this is, isn’t it? You’re sheltered, you’re spoiled, and you wanted to do something crazy.” Air quotes here. “But now it’s time to get real. Pull the needle from your arm and work that shit out of your system, because I refuse to let my life become a soapbox for buck-toothed miscreants in training.”  
  
John draws himself up, crosses his arms. “But you’re not above taking their grist.”

“Fuck you! I never said I was going to take it.”

“We wouldn’t be here if you weren’t thinking about it.”

He’s got him there and he knows it. Karkat launches to his feet.

“WRONG, asshat! We wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t fucked up!” Stray curls fall into his eyes and Karkat tosses them back. “ _We wouldn’t be here_ if you hadn’t insisted on being a nosy shit who’d rather deal with my problems than his own! If you hadn’t told me what happened at that piano bar and dragged me into the shitstorm that evidently is ‘The John Egbert Show’!”

“Don’t be a dick!” John snaps, immediately rising to his knees. “I told you about what happened because I thought I could trust you. You’re the one who told me to come, and now you’re the one asking what I want in exchange.” He takes a deep breath. “I want to stay here. At least until people stop looking for me or I can find my friends. I don’t think I’m asking a lot.”

 _You’re asking a shit ton!_ Is what Karkat wants to scream, but noise from the audience distracts them again. A loud gasp, like rushing air being sucked up a vacuum. He needs to leave. Now.

“Fine. You know what? You can stay. But only because I’m not done blasting your goddamn eardrums about this. Stick that in the cavernous space between your ears where your brain should to be.”

John throws him a wry look but doesn’t argue. He slips the grist pouch back into his pocket and stands.

“So what now?”

“ _I’m_ headed to the round, so I can end the show and get those people the hell out of here. _You’re_ headed upstairs to my room. It’s too late to introduce you to the others, and they’ll need the office to count out, now that I’m back.”

Karkat walks around his desk and towards the door, inching it open to scan the corridor. He’s on the lookout for the usual: wandering ghosts, stray children, the occasional patron lost on their way to the restroom. The coast looks clear.

“You coming?” He glances back into the room, raises an eyebrow when John jumps.

“Oh! Uh, yeah.”

“Follow me until we get to the staircase,” Karkat instructs, leading them out into the hall. “When we get there, I’ll—”

A man stands waiting when they turn the corner, his back to them. Average height and scarecrow thin, his shoulders hunch so that his policeman’s uniform pools awkwardly in the dip of his neck.

Karkat stops short. John oofs softly as he stumbles into his back.

Sensing someone behind him, the officer starts to turn and Karkat catches a glimpse of bi-colored lenses.

Shit.

“Okay. Change of plans.”

 


	2. Whiner's Bio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Running from the cops. Ladyfingers. A new home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I'm occluded 'round the clock; a central shame_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> I'll be adding tags as they happen, but there is a small mention of murder in this chapter.

The door handle creaks as someone rattles it from the outside.

”Don't feed me bullshit lines Karkat. Get out of my way!"

What follows sounds like scuffling in the hallway, but John’s not sure. The way his heart hammers is very distracting. His senses have pooled their collective energy into clasping hands and forming a prayer circle to keep his heart from leaping out of his chest.

Oh! So maybe that’s why it’s called a nervous system. Ha ha.

Unfortunate puns aside, it dawns on John that he’s been making terrible decisions as of late. And okay, some parts have been kind of fun (teasing Karkat sitting firmly at the top of that list); but now that he’s hiding in the dressing room of the Altarf Theater, currently buried under what feels like a metric ton of sequins and lace, he may be changing his mind.

My apologies,” says a calm voice to John’s right. “I’ll try to keep this brief.”

John nods, which is kind of stupid since he knows she can’t see him. The gesture is mostly for himself.

The woman Karkat addressed as Ka…na..ya (how did he even remember that?) drops another armful of costumes onto his head just as the door flies open. The policeman stumbles in with Karkat at his heels.

"Good Evening, Officer Captor," Kanaya says coolly. “It’s been some time since I’ve heard your surly voice outside my door."

“Pardon me for showing up when I suspect something idiotic.” His voice is nasal, thick like cotton around the S’s. "Not like it’s my job or anything."

"No one is suggesting that you neglect your duties, Officer Captor. Perhaps my request for peace and quiet was too brazen?”

He exhales; a long-suffering sigh. “Come on Kanaya, I can’t do this tonight. And stop calling me ‘Officer Captor,’ it makes me feel like a tool.”

“Better do what he says, Kanaya.” Karkat speaks for the first time since he’s entered the dressing room. “After all, Sollux generously skulked his miserable ass down here on the pretext of checking up on us.”

"One. Screw you, KK. Two— back the hell off. I'm doing a horrible enough job of this without your help.”

John’s breath catches when he hears cabinets being opened, chairs being shoved aside; The officer must be looking around the room.

“If we could return to more pressing matters,” Kanaya suggests, clearly trying to move things along. “All this posturing isn’t necessary. What exactly are you looking for?”

“Yeah,” Karkat goads, like he can’t help himself. “I know you’re eager to get your hands on me again Captor, but you’re too proud to come down here without a valid excuse.”

Hands on.. again?

Sollux mercifully ignores the barb. “An eye-witness came forward and reported our perp taking off in this direction, along with a description. He’s probably skipped town by now, but we’re following all leads.”

“What does he look like?” Kanaya asks, obligingly.

“Caucasian. Between 5’7 and 6’2. Medium build. Glasses.”

“Do you know how many people that description fits?”

“It happened after hours. The only reason our witness, the janitor, saw anything was because he was taking out the trash. Perp suddenly appears, takes off down the alley and disappears. Meanwhile we find the owner inside, slumped over the eighty eights, and an empty safe. Only two weeks from retirement too, how shitty is that?”

From his hiding place, John’s head begins to pound and he squeezes his eyes shut. Like eyelid movies, the memories conjured by Sollux’s words begin to play, murky and ill-defined in the recesses of his mind. He wills himself to focus on something tangible; the fabric adhering to his damp skin. The ache in his muscles as he strains to keep still. A bead of sweat travels down his neck.

“Running this way doesn’t mean anyone came here,” Karkat argues irritably. “What was he going to do, relax and take in a show after putting down some geezer?”

“Karkat,” Kanaya warns.

“Have some respect for the dead, dipshit. There’s more. When it was just me and the janitor in the interrogation room, he mentioned something pretty interesting.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

“Seems he could swear right before the perp took off, he muttered ‘car cat’.”

Karkat sounds genuinely disturbed by this piece of news. “WHAT?”

“The guy didn’t think it was worth mentioning earlier because it made no sense. Thought he misheard the word ‘cricket’. Or maybe the murderer was speaking a different language. Never even considered that it might be someone’s name. ”

When Sollux speaks again, his voice is steely. “So if you two know anything, which I’m pretty sure you do, you have to tell me now. I can’t help you later.”

There’s a tense silence. Then Karkat snorts and it’s broken.

“You fucking sap. This really was an excuse to come see me. You aren’t hard up for clues, you’re just hard up.”

“And you’re sick in the head, because I wouldn’t touch your dick with a cattle prod, you dipshit!”

Karkat’s still amused. “I can’t wait for your next visit. You’ll be eating so much goddamned crow your shits will take flight.”

“What do you mean,” Kanaya interrupts suddenly, “that you won’t be able to help us?”

“I’m being transferred to another branch. I was going to tell you sooner, but.. Whatever. Don’t worry about me stepping foot in this dump again.” He’s obviously pissed thanks to the last round of banter. “Have fun bailing yourselves out of whatever fuckery this is bound to be. I’m out of here.”

The door opens and Captor leaves. Karkat follows. “What do you mean transferred? Oi! Answer me, jackass!”

As soon as their footsteps fade, Kanaya firmly shuts and locks the door. John wastes no time climbing free, rolling his neck and stretching his legs. They tingle uncomfortably after being curled up for so long.

Kanaya approaches him with a look of concern. “Are you alright?”

She’s wearing a green satin robe and not much else, exposing a tan thigh as she bends to help him to his feet. It barely registers; his head is so fuzzy that having time to feel embarrassed about skin would be a luxury.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

She pours a glass of water and hands it to him. “Here.”

John gulps it down, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat. When he’s done he hands it back, casting around for something to say. Anything that’s not what’s on both their minds.

“Um. Is he going to be alright?”

“Are you referring to Karkat?” John nods.

Kanaya’s eyes are a little too green and a little too intrigued, as she studies him.

“John, was it?"

”Yeah. John…Crocker.” He should probably stop using his real name. Now is as good a time as any. “Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. Though I think we can both agree we’re past the point of formal introductions.” She crosses her arms. “How exactly do you know Karkat, John?”

“We. We go way back.” Because a week feels like a lifetime ago.

“Allow me to remind you my cooperation is based solely on Karkat’s faith in you and not my own.”

“Geez! Fine!” He exclaims when Kanaya fails to relent. “I’m not from around here. I came to find a job and reconnect with some old friends. Strike out on my own. Adventure.” He motions with his hands, trying to conjure the words. “Things weren’t working out. I figured I’d probably have to come up with a new plan or start panhandling or I don’t know. I just knew I wasn’t going home. ”

“I was checking the job boards. You know those bulletins placed around the city? And it seemed like every time I went, I kept bumping into this guy putting up posters. He wouldn’t stop glaring at me. Even accused me of following him! But..” His voice turns thoughtful. “He helped me. Talking to him took my mind off my problems. And then it became a regular thing, meeting up by the boards so we could walk around, riffing on each other. Karkat was the first person since I got here who made me feel like I wasn’t alone.”

Kanaya’s eyes soften; she nods wordlessly.

“I’d mentioned playing the piano as a kid. He was actually the one who told me—“ John hesitates. He doesn’t know if telling Kanaya about being at the scene of the crime will help matters. “—to come here tonight,” he finishes lamely.

He’s saved from saying anything more when a latch springs open on the far wall and Karkat climbs out, covered in cobwebs.

“Don’t ask,” he orders when he catches John staring.

***

“Is Vaudeville like an indoor circus?”

"What? No,” Karkat says, pressing a towel to his damp hair. It’s late now, and after a quick rinse in the staff shower, he’s locking up on their way to his room.  
Kanaya has promised not to say anything for now, but John suspects more questioning in their future.

“This is a theater. Which means none of that low-brow slop that passes for entertainment where you come from.”

“Have you ever considered your own act? World’s Crabbiest Sweetheart! Adorable.. bloodthirsty…something.”

“Are you even listening?” he deadpans. “I’m not a performer, I’m the stage manager.”

“Wow. That’s sure a none answer you just gave. Use your imagination!”

“I don’t have time for an imagination,” Karkat grumbles. “I’m too busying making sure everything doesn’t go to shit.”

John ruffles his hair. It’s soft now that all the product has been rinsed. ”Lucky for you I have enough for the both of us.”

“That’s reassuring.”

Upstairs in Karkat’s room, he hands John a cotton t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

“Bathroom’s down the hall. Obviously there’s only one bed, so we’ll have to share tonight.” The tips of his ears are adorably flushed as he busies himself with the buttons on his shirt. “We can figure the rest out tomorrow.”

“Awesome. It’ll be like a sleepover.”

Karkat grimaces. “Are we a pair of overgrown infants?”

“It’ll be an adult sleepover. Two super mature people climbing into bed, making blanket forts and hoping the other doesn’t snore.” Who is he kidding. Karkat is too cute not to snore.

“No forts. And if you try, I’m going to smother you in your sleep.”

John slips the shirt over his head. It’s a little snug around his upper arms, which are more solid than ever thanks to a variety of odd jobs. It feels amazingly soft against his skin.

He’s folding his pants over a chair, securing the pouch of grist, when Karkat turns.

“Hey.” He stands in his undershirt and boxers, staring somewhere over John’s right shoulder.

“Hmm?”

“Why did you say my name?”

John knits his brows. “Ahaha, what?”

“I mean,” Karkat amends when he sees his confusion, “why did you say my name then? After the thing at the bar?”

John’s heart speeds up for the billionth time that night. This has got to stop, he’s going to die so young. His face grows hot.

“I don’t— I mean I wasn’t trying to— ” It just happened? You make me feel better? I trust you? The vulnerable way Karkat asks makes it harder to put into words because he doesn’t want to sound stupid. Unfortunately stupid is his forte. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Okay.” He puts out the lamp and the room is plunged in darkness.

“Are you.. mad?”

Karkat yanks the covers down on the bed. Climbs in with his back to John.

“Goodnight.”

He didn’t answer the question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story may be a slow burn, but it's going somewhere!


	3. Halves And Have-Nots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John reunites with some old friends. John makes a new friend. Along comes a spider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tiniest mention of siblicide. Microscopic.

An open courtyard sits behind Al-Tarf theater, separating it from a large equipment shed and an animal facility housed out back. There’s no breeze to stir the trees that hang their arms in exhaustion. Blades of grass poke out between the spaces in the brick paths that zig-zag across the ground. It’s a stretch to think that Karkat would be in either building at this time of day, but John heads towards them anyway.

Karkat has been M.I.A. since morning, leaving no signs of life except a clean shirt--a little tight in the sleeves-- and a glass of water on the bedside table. Last night, he’d practically shoved a finger up John’s nose, insisting that by no means was he to leave the grounds until they had a subsequent pow-wow about “the festering discharge of his bullshit antics” (or as John covertly thought of it, “Karkat Overreacting: Part Infinity”). Now he was nowhere to be found.

Waking up alone had only been a mild shock, all things considered.

No one was in Kanaya’s dressing room when John stopped by. In fact, the entire theater felt curiously empty; maybe everyone had the day off, or had gone into town. Whatever the case, he was left to his own devices, wandering outside after catching sight of the two buildings from an upstairs window. If all else failed, seeing the animals in the husbandry would probably take his mind off his grumbling stomach. Hopefully. He’d rather not consider the traitorous implications of daydreaming about pony meat.

Voices in the clearing ahead catch John’s attention.

“—when their pantry has more grub in it than ours.”

A young man and woman with white-blonde hair walk side by side. Dark lenses obscure the eyes of the former, who idly twirls a small blade between his fingers. They’re dressed in casual clothes, the woman holding a purse-- indicating they’re either on their way out or their way in. Something about them seems familiar, but he's too far away to tell for sure. It niggles at the back of John’s mind as they continue speaking.

“I’m not going to debate this with you. It's much more entertaining when Karkat does so for me.”

“Whose idea do you think this detour was?”

“I believe his exact words were, 'Quit whining like an overprivileged toddler and do something about it.’ ”

“See? He understands I’m a growing boy, entering that rebellious _eat to live_ phase.”

From her bag his companion produces a large red apple. “You’ll live until we get there.”

Karkat's name is what compels John to bound into view, bouncing on the balls of his feet with nervous energy. The two stop short, allowing him a good look at their mildly surprised faces. He bites his lip. They share the same sloped nose and sharp features. The woman peers back at him and her lavender eyes grow wide.

“JOHN?”

He grins sheepishly. “Hi Rose.”

“John!” Her arms wrap around him, breathless and happy as she laughs into his hair. It’s so uncharacteristic of her generally stoic nature, all he can do is nod wordlessly, squeeze back.

Rose draws back to kiss his cheek. “I can’t believe it’s you. Truly.”

He steals a glance over her shoulder. Dave’s rooted to the spot with his hands in his pockets, hovering awkwardly. A moment of hesitation passes before he finally claps a hand on John’s shoulder and leans in.

“For fuck's sake, warn a guy before you waltz back into his life. Gotta work on my moves. Clear a space on my dance card.”

Standing this close, he can see his reflection in the lens of Dave's dark shades. Some of the uneasiness dissipates. “Should I be jealous? I know you are hot stuff.”

“The hottest. Surprised you aren’t a pile of ashes with me smoldering here like some kind of ludicrously handsome conflagration.”

“Whatever, man. I missed your stupid face. So congrats on that.”

“You’re welcome.”

"John," Rose inclines her head. "What are you doing here? How long have you been in town?"

"Only a few days! But I don't get why _you guys_ are here!"

Whatever she attempts to say next is preempted by gurgling. Rose releases him and his cheeks grow hot. Dave nods at the apple still in his sister’s grasp.

“I’m willing to go halfsies with him.”

"Are you _sure_ you're Dave Strider?" John is grinning now, face still warm. The gesture says a lot. It's kind of hard to forget how weird Dave is about that particular fruit.

His sister agrees. “It's definitely one for the history books. Our very own William Tell.”

“Shit, let’s be equilateral.”

Quick as a shot Rose lobs the apple into the air, so fluid that John barely has time to follow its trajectory before Dave’s blade slices clean through the middle. The halves land easily in her waiting palms. She hands one to John and one to Dave once he’s retrieved his knife.

“I would have placed it on my head,” she muses aloud, “but we already made the reference, and I know how much you hate to show off.”

“Flagrant modesty must run in our family.”

John huffs impatiently. He’s already whittled his apple down to seeds. “I still don’t understand any of this! How are you guys here? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We did.” Rose, who'd begun digging through the contents of her handbag, stops to study him. “We all wrote to you several times. You never wrote back.”

“It was enough to break a guy’s heart.” Dave goes on, face impassive as ever. “We figured you needed some time after what happened with Papa Egbert, but Jade insisted there was more to it. You know how stubborn she can—“

John frantically shakes his head, cutting Dave off mid-sentence. “Don’t! You can’t call me that while we're here, okay? I'm not John Egbert, I'm John Crocker now!” It’s hard not to cringe. He’s pretty sure his voice just hit a pitch only dogs can hear.

Dave cocks an eyebrow. “..Right _._ ”

Rose continues to stare at him. “You’re taking your Grandmother’s surname?”

“Uh, _yeah_. Nanna only helped raise me for a bazillion years.” Wow. Look at all the things in the courtyard that are suddenly more interesting than Rose’s face.

“Hmm.” She goes back to her purse, pulling out a small bag of crisps which she pinches between her fingers.

“Hmm?” John echoes.

“Here we go,” Dave mutters under his breath.

“I find it curious,” Rose explains, swinging her crinkled hostage, “that you would suddenly appear before us, malnourished, wearing clothes that are not your own, insisting that we not call you by your given name. That’s all.”

Her sharp gaze threatens to wring the truth out of him like a sponge. “I might have had a few setbacks,” John says defensively.

“I’d love to hear the details.”

Damn. Better start small. “It’s Karkat’s shirt." He pulls at the sleeve. "I slept with him last night and my clothes got dirty—”

He doesn’t know which is worse, Dave’s nod of approval or Rose’s bemused smirk.

“NOT LIKE THAT, IT WAS NORMAL SLEEP. Whatever, shut up. You guys haven’t even told me how you know him!”

Dave shakes his head. “Now that’s just goddamn embarrassing. You don’t even recognize The Derse Twins when you’re looking straight at ‘em.”

“WHAT?! That was you guys last night?” At once John forgets his annoyance, remembering the cheers of the audience. “Is that your act, the swish thing?” He mimes the blade cutting through the air.

“Not exactly. Unless you imagine I’m the apple and my dear brother wields at least a dozen more knives.”

John’s eyes practically bug out of his head. Rose holds the crisps out towards him. _The award for most enthused about siblicide goes to!_

“Now it’s your turn to tell us how you know Mr. Vantas.”

“We should find Jade first. I want to tell her about it too.” He looks around like mentioning his cousin’s name will make her appear in thin air.

“No good, Johnny boy. Harley took off yesterday for your neck of the woods. Think it was supposed to be a surprise. Said she needed the space.”

John wrinkles his nose. “Why would she need that?”

Rose gives her brother a sharp look that clearly says, _Yes Dave, why would she need that?_   “I think what Dave means to say is that Jade had a lot of things on her mind, and you were one of them.”

A wry expression crosses Dave’s face. “It’s funny how you arrive just as she leaves. Pretty much the exact opposite of what you’d want to happen. There ought to be a word for that.”

 

***

 

Half an hour later, John finds himself wandering backstage. Reuniting with his best friends had been great, but as he’d suspected earlier, Dave and Rose had a prior engagement to keep. They’d separated near the back entrance of the theater with a promise to meet again that evening. Neither of them knew Karkat’s current whereabouts, but insisted that he would be back soon enough and that this area would be the best place to wait.

Walking behind the red curtains is what John imagines roaming the belly of a whale to be like. Everywhere looms metal rigs and ladders, nets and cages, enclosing the area like a giant ribcage. An elaborate pile of ropes and large sandbags sit off to the side of the stage. He slumps against one and thinks of Jade.

From experience, John knows the trip back home takes two full days with only one bus transfer. If she’s lucky it won’t include any crying babies, pushy traveling salesmen, or cramped spaces. He feels a swell of affection, thinking of her making the long trek on his behalf.. only to find him gone. He’ll definitely have to make it up to her somehow.

“Hey. You.”

John spins; the sound reverberates like a dropped penny. No one’s behind him.

“Ugh. Up here, loser!”

Sitting on a hoop suspended at least eight feet above the ground is a scantily clad girl with dirty blonde hair. She looks down at him.

“You're not from the press are you?”

John shakes his head. “No.”

“Good. The last one said the same thing, but you look too dumb to lie about it.”

“Thanks?” As John watches, the girl hooks her legs and swings her torso down, hanging by her knees. “You’re really good at that!”

“I know, right?” She seems to bask in his praise. “It’s nothing compared to what I can really do-- not that they’ll let me. My last partner says I’m too reckless. Pssh.”

“That sucks.” He moves closer so he won’t have to shout. “The dangerous looking stuff is the best part!”

“Exactly! If it were safe it’d be _bor_ - _ing_!” The way she dangles reminds John of a spider.

“So if you’re not a reporter, what are you doing back here? Looking for work?”

“I’m waiting for Karkat. Do you know where he is?”

The girl snorts, completely ignoring the question. “I knew that loudmouth was lying about adding a new act! He kept giving me the runaround when I asked, and then here you come." At once her eyes light up and she gives him a predatory smile. "Want me to teach you how to fly?”

“You mean like a bird? Is that even a thing?”

“No, you dope! It’s a good thing I found you when I did." She arches her back. "By the way, don’t you think you should’ve asked me my name by now?”

“Oh, good point. My name’s John..Crocker. What’s yours?”

“BZZZ! Wrong again.” She makes a buzzer sound. “I never actually said I was going to tell you. Be grateful I’m even talking to you right now! I’m kind of a big deal.”

John grins despite himself. “The kind of big deal that’s so great she refuses to tell people who she is?”

“Names are a valuable commodity, John. You can’t just give them away for free.”

“That.. doesn’t make any sense.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s over your head--like me!” She laughs at her own joke. “ _But_ I’ll help you out if you do something for me.”

“What's that?” John asks with trepidation.

“Catch!” She releases her grip and drops from the hoop. John scrambles-- _Oomph!_ They fall to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Whatever prevented a shattered nose is soft, warm, and a body part he's probably better off not identifying. There’s a lot of exposed skin.

“Serket," says an irritated voice. "Don't you have anything better to do than push your heavy-handed cliches on the mentally deficient?”

John cranes his neck. Disembodied voices seem to be a trend today.

Karkat holds two brown grocery bags, his face stormy like he wants nothing more than to upend the contents over their heads. John hastily climbs to his feet and the blonde grudgingly follows, smirking as she adjusts the straps of her skimpy top.

His attempt to scoop one of the bags from Karkat’s arms is met with only mild resistance. John meets his eyes and smiles, hoping it doesn't look as awkward as he thinks it does. Pretending last night’s awkwardness never happened seems like the easiest option.

“Hey boss!" Serket looks over. "You get demoted to errand boy while I wasn’t looking?”

Karkat sets his jaw. “Some of us don’t need an audience in order to get shit done.”

“Try not to be so petty, it’s not a good look for you.” She points to her hoop. “And I get plenty done. You’re just too busy complaining to notice.”

“Where’d you go, anyway?” John interrupts, curious. “You were gone a lot longer than a trip to the store.”

“I needed to take care of some things.” They wait for him to elaborate but he doesn’t, pointedly staring at John like he’s going to explode. “ _Things_. Not that it’s any of your business, you obtuse dunderfuck. ”

The blonde throws an arm around Karkat’s shoulder. “Secrets? Come on Karkat, we both know you’re no good at keeping those. Spill!”

Karkat stubbornly puffs his cheeks out and says nothing. It looks so childish, John can’t resist poking his face.“Did you find out anything about my, um, arrival?”

“Argh, cut it out! You ask too many questions.” He shakes them off and carefully directs his next words to John. “Stop being nosy and help me take these," he ruffles his bag, "to the kitchen.”

“Geez, okay okay.” Even he can take a hint. The girl looks back and forth between like she senses she’s being left out of something.

“ _Lame_. I don’t get what you dorks are talking about and I don’t care. You know I’ll find out eventually.”

“Yeah good luck with that.” Karkat makes to leave with John in tow. “But before you do that, tell everyone dinner at eight in the cellar.” 

“ _Tonight_? Why?”

John's eyebrows rise when Karkat points to him. “We’re having a welcome party.”


	4. Basement Money

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John meets the gang. John drinks too much. An important phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa! Such a big gap between updates. Finals ate up my free time for a while there.  
> I tried to make this chapter a little longer to make up for it.

That evening, seated at the long wooden slab that doubles as their informal dining table, Karkat furrows his brow. John is ladling a generous serving of pasta onto his plate with the hungry enthusiasm of a man who obviously hasn’t eaten a decent meal in days. Not that spaghetti is exactly what Karkat would consider a decent meal so much as a fail-safe one— it’s the only thing he’d been able to prepare for this many people on such short notice without his wallet committing hari-kari.

Gamzee, (who usually prepared supper on these sorts of occasions) had volunteered to help him, but he’d refused and placed the other boy on dessert duty instead. Cooking by way of meditation was a trait they both shared, and Karkat found that chopping onions always seemed to have a weirdly calming effect on his nerves.

Now, his nerves are back in full effect, essentially forcing him to stop stabbing at the contents of his plate in favor of focusing his ire across the table.

“Hey, whoa, slow your roll,” Dave says, easing the bowl out of John’s hands and passing it down. “Vantas’ cooking isn’t _that_ good.”

“What? Ha ha, no way, it tastes awesome.”

John is quite possibly the neatest spaghetti eater Karkat has ever seen. He twirls his fork with a finishing school flourish, managing not to get a speck of red sauce on himself, despite tempting fate with his white t-shirt. “Seriously, it’s better than a restaurant,” he throws in, smiling warmly at his benefactor.

Karkat examines his drinking glass, feeling self-conscious. “I get it. Stop sucking up.”

“I still say it’s ‘traveler’s gut’,” Dave pops one meatball into his mouth, then another. “Life on the road makes anything taste good.”

Down in the cellar where the lighting is poor at best, Dave still insists on wearing his customary shades. Candles have been lit, courtesy of Kanaya, placed down the length of the table where they act more as ambiance than necessity. It’s a wonder he can see anything not immediately in front of his face.

“Fuck you, Mr. ‘Show-me-how-to-boil-water,” Karkat accompanies with a hand gesture. “Aren’t you stuffing a second helping down your gullet as we speak?”

“Eating would be the thing I’m doing, yeah.”

“So why would it be any different when John does it, you horses' ass? I can personally verify that your stomach is the goddamn Bermuda Triangle everything in our icebox seems to disappear into.”

Nonplussed, Dave puts a hand to his chest. “I’m a growing boy.”

John grins around a mouthful of noodles as Karkat glowers. On Dave’s left Terezi snickers, flames glinting off her crimson shades like burning pupils.

“Maybe our fearsome leader should eat more then.”

“Hahahaha good one,” Vriska laughs. She’s seated beside John and leans across him to raise her glass in Terezi’s direction.

“John,” Feferi calls sweetly from the end of the table. “Aradia and I have a bet going. Tell us which of our acts made you wanna join our troupe!”

John has the grace to look embarrassed. “I, uh, haven’t actually seen any of your shows,” he answers truthfully.

“That’s okay.” Aradia’s unruly curls threaten to swallow her face like a lion’s mane.“You haven’t been in town for very long.”

“But you’ve seen posters, right?” Feferi continues, undeterred. “There must have been something you wanted to see!”

Karkat’s eyes meet John’s in a glance across the table. It’s no brainteaser, but from the blank expression on his face, he hasn’t exactly thought this far ahead.

Somehow Karkat resists the urge to facepalm. No wonder this goofball couldn’t go to the police. How the hell could anyone keep a murder under wraps while stumbling on the starting block? There’s no question that if he weren’t here, John’s gangly ass would be sitting behind bars, a grubby harmonica pressed to his lips and Sollux gloating somewhere nearby.

Wait. Sollux isn’t in town anymore. Which is fine because he is a dirty traitor who can fuck himself to completion with a rusty cattle prod. Good riddance.

No. They’ll figure this out, even if it means exploiting the guileless charm John Egbert Crocker seems so hell bent on perfecting.

A kick under the table says as much.

“Ow!” John glares, then quickly recovers. “What I mean is, I’ve _seen_ the posters, but I’ve never really _looked_ at them? I mean, I’m sure all of you are really talented?”

“So you came here with no idea who we are or what we do.” Terezi says flatly. Behind her opaque glasses, Karkat imagines she rolls her sightless eyes.

“He’s being polite.” Rose, a spectator until this point, leans forwards and gives her friend a knowing look. Her painted lips curve into a smile. “John doesn’t want to appear bias to Dave and myself.”

Beside Rose, Kanaya stands, delicately taps her wine glass with a spoon.

“Perhaps it would be wise to use this as an opportunity to welcome Mr. Crocker formally— introduce ourselves and our corresponding roles.”

Her words are met with a collective groan.

“No one introduced themselves to me when I got here,” Vriska says, tossing her head.

“Like you gave anyone the chance,” Karkat mutters.

“I heard that, Vantass. My point is John’s not a baby. If we’re doing lame introductions, let’s make ‘em fun.” As the others watch, Vriska produces a large bottle of whiskey and motions Gamzee to hand her a shot glass.

“Okay! Everyone introduces themselves, but Johnny boy here has to guess the act. You can give ‘em clues, but no talking. If he gets it wrong, bottoms up!”

She sets the drink in front of him, sloshing liquid as she pours.

Kanaya hesitates. “Will you refrain from going overboard?”

“Yeah, yeah, he’ll be fine,” Vriska waves her hand dismissively. “He already knows what half of us do anyway.”

“Not really,” John says. “I mean, I know what you do ‘cause you showed me earlier. And Karkat, Rose, and Dave. Oh, and I guess Kanaya but I really only saw her outfit—”

“Okay, gonna pull the emergency brakes on this shame train,” Dave interrupts, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re kinda proving her point. Everyone else is going to go harder on you now.”

“Um,” John begins at the same time Feferi claps her hands and Karkat shakes his head.

“This sounds fun!”  
“This sounds fucking horrible.”

  
***

  
Exactly how drunk John is at this point is hard to say, but it’s definitely having an effect on his score.

To Karkat’s surprise (and okay, let’s face it, pride), Gamzee proves to be the toughest. Not because his childhood friend is bad at charades— on the contrary, he’s _too fucking good at it_. Clowns and mimes are practically synonymous, the head honchos of all things pantomime. Not allowing Gamzee to speak is probably the biggest favor Vriska could have done any of them.

When Gamzee pantomimes throwing a pie and John tanks that one too (“Footballer?”), the other actually lobs a piece of the pie he served for dessert, where it whizzes past John and splatters Dave’s face.

The table roars with laughter. Strider doesn’t even bother to wipe it off, Terezi and Rose swiping whipped cream right off his cheek.

Karkat eyes John carefully as he takes yet another shot. The alcohol makes him loose, affectionate. He beams at everyone like the whiskey is warming his entire body from the inside out.

“Who’s last?” Dave asks lazily, Terezi seated on his lap. His arms snake around her waist to keep her from tumbling off when she sniffs his face.

Feferi jumps to her feet. “Me! But I won’t be long. Mine’s ridiculously easy.” She grins at John who grins right back.

“Today, Princess!” Vriska crows good-naturedly.

Nodding, Feferi gathers the skirts of her dress and tucks them between her legs, creating a makeshift tail. John furrows his brows in confusion.

Pursing her lips in an exaggerated pout, she flattens her palms and places them to her cheeks, wiggling her hands back and forth. Judging from the lack of reaction, this is apparently normal.

“Is that.. are you swimming?” John attempts. “Do you wear a fish costume?”

Vriska is already pouring the next shot. Karkat lifts it from her hand and knocks it back, cringing when the familiar burn hits his throat. “Relax, Serket,” he coughs thickly. “It’s not over.”

Feferi nods encouragingly, puffing her cheeks in a way that would be comedic if it weren’t fucking adorable.

“Fish costume… fish. Girl. You’re a fish girl..?” John lights up. “A mermaid?”

“Yes!” Feferi cheers, throwing her arms around him in excitement. The moment she lets go, Vriska ruffles his hair. “I told you guys he’s amazing!”

“And drunk as a skunk,” Karkat deadpans. “Someone get him a glass of water.”

“How would a mermaid even work on stage?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Feferi teases. Rose presses the water into his hand.

John accepts it gracefully but doesn’t drink. He seems to make up his mind about something.

Climbing to his feet, he holds his glass aloft, examining it by the light of the cellar’s only bulb.

“Behold! An ordinary glass of water!”

Karkat makes an irritated noise. “We can see that, you ham. Quit the theatrics, tonight’s show is over.”

John ignores him, brandishing a napkin in his free hand and shaking it energetically. “Nothing in my hand. Nothing in my napkin! But watch carefully.”

Quiet falls. Karkat reluctantly follows as John covers his glass with the cloth. There’s steely determination in his blue eyes, narrowed with concentration. Out of the corner of his eye, Karkat sees the others watching with interest, craning their necks to see.

John whips the napkin off the wine glass and holds it up again. Karkat blinks. There’s a single goldfish swimming in the glass.

Someone whoops and there’s another round of applause. John bows, grinning sheepishly.

  
***

It’s nearly one in the morning when John and Karkat emerge from the cellar and cross the foyer. Karkat staggers under John’s dead weight, one arm draped around his tired shoulders like a shroud.

Moving past the grand staircase they round the corner and enter the first door down the hall—The Derse Twins shared dressing room.

The place is as messy as ever. Dave and Rose have never been particularly tidy people. Clothes cover every surface, along with sheet music and odd jars filled with what Dave insists are *novelty* “pickled punks” that he won at a road show and not the real things.

Without preamble Karkat dumps his passenger onto Rose’s chaise lounge, velvet fabric worn around the edges. John bounces when he hits the cushions, tugging playfully at Karkat’s shirt and giggling when he lands ’oof!’— atop of him.

“Ehehehe, clumsy. Have a good trip?”

“I swear to god, Egbert—”

“See you next fall!” Jesus. This guy actually snorted at his own joke.

“Okay, there’s no way you drank enough to warrant this level of asshatery. Consider me down right impressed that even sloshed, you’ve somehow managed to take your horseshit to the next plateau. You’re a goddamn natural.”

“I try.”

Karkat moves to sit up at the same moment John rolls over, essentially pining Karkat in place. A pile of poorly stacked romance novels go tumbling off the side.

“Hahah whoops.”

John laughs again, all giddy adrenaline as he scoots closer to nuzzle into the other boy’s chest. Color blooms high and hot in Karkat’s cheeks. He’s too aware of the soft hair grazing his neck. The heat beneath John’s skin, raw and tingling, where it brushes against his own.

“…I like your friends. They’re weird. But nice.”

Karkat sets his jaw stubbornly. Wills his heart to stop beating so fast. “You’re weird. And they’re not my friends, they’re my employees. There’s a difference.”

“Heh. Yep.” When John sighs, Karkat can feel the air puff against his chest. Because they like you too.”

In that moment he wants to do and say and feel a million things. The need to connect overwhelms him, this space, this warmth, like a punch to the gut. But there’s nothing to do about. Because he’s him, and they’re here, and John’s too good for any of it.

He rubs at his eyes with a palm and feels John shift.

“Karkat..”

The phone rings.

At one in the morning.

Requesting a telephone be installed in their dressing room was one of the first requests the Derse Twins made once they realized they had enough clout to do so. It had been a major production at the time, but proved necessary. As one of the top grossing acts, there were times it was important for management to grease the wheels— keep the talent happy, etc.

Of course, Karkat had also bought the same model for his office. And if he happened to test it out on Dave constantly at all hours of the day and night, well, that was technology after all.

The shrill ringing doesn’t stop and the awful thought comes to him that Dave knows just what _didn’t_ happen seconds ago and that it’s why he’s on the other end.

Avoiding John’s eyes, his face searing, Karkat climbs off the lounge and irritably yanks the receiver free.

“CLIMB BACK UP YOUR GAPING ASSHOLE AND FUCK OFF.”

There’s a moment of silence. Then someone exhales, slowly.

“Kid,” threatens the deep, rasping voice on the line. “if anyone’s about to shit their breeches, it’s _you_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's been reading so far<3 Hopefully the next chapter won't take so long.


	5. So Many Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets a case of the vapors. John and Karkat have a dumb fight standing over a toilet. Magic!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long. Tbh, I got caught up in the massive wave of Davekat fic and momentarily lost my motivation. BUT I am a multi-shipper, determined to get back on the Johnkat horse and ride it off into the sunset, weeping gently. 
> 
> This chapter's a little longer to make up for things.

With a long-suffering sigh, Karkat closes his leather journal and busily begins shifting through the stack of papers he's been attempting to ignore. The last few weeks have been a whirlwind, barely allowing him time to catch up on more tedious parts of his job. He's examining a particular sheet through narrowed eyes, when someone politely knocks at the door. At least, it would _be_ polite if they hadn't entered before giving him a chance to respond.

“Hello Karkat.” Rose shuts the door behind her.

“Lalonde. Come right in, pull up a chair. Or a fucking piece of carpet since, as you can see, I’m surrounded.” He indicates the papers strewn across the floor.

Rose walks across the room and hoists herself onto the edge of the desk, looking down to read the sheet of paper in Karkat’s hand.

“Notice of Eviction?”

Karkat quickly stuffs the paper behind his back with a sneer. “Do you mind? Wait, never mind. Look who I’m talking to.”

“I’m sorry Karkat, you’ll have to forgive my roaming eye. Not that you were exactly hiding it.”

“How about you tell me why you’re here. I don’t have the patience to go through a song and dance with you, and the sooner you tell me, the sooner I can get back to not filing these papers.”

“I’m afraid it’s quite important.” The tone of her voice makes Karkat rise from his seat on the floor.

“Is it.. Kanaya?” Alright, so his voice may register more concern than he’s entirely comfortable with. She may be Rose’s girlfriend, but Kanaya is one of his best friends and therefore, a high priority.

“No, no, Kanaya’s fine. I’m actually on my way to meet her in town, if you’d like to tag along.”

The invitation isn’t posed as a question. Karkat raises a brow suspiciously. “And why would I want to do that?”

Rose folds her hands. “I’ll be frank. I know Slick spoke to you, and that you’re wondering why he called the direct line in our dressing room. I also know that despite your curiosity, you haven’t worked up the nerve to ask Dave or myself anything about it.” 

Karkat’s mouth works soundlessly, but she doesn’t allow him to interrupt. “I’m offering you an opportunity to ask the questions you want before you meet with Slick this evening. In exchange, this rendezvous stays between us.”

Karkat picks up his coat. “Deal.”

 

++++    +++++    +++++

 

John stifles a yawn behind his hand.

It’s been days since Karkat’s mysterious phone call and he’s still acting weird. Not in an obvious way— at first glance he remains just as tiny, angry, and adorably neurotic as ever. But John can tell. There are times he catches Karkat staring off into space, worrying at his lip with a pensive look on his face. Other times he looks exhausted, like he carries the weight of the world on his small shoulders. And maybe he does. The theater is Karkat’s entire world made of bricks and concrete, and everyday is a day he tries to keep it from tumbling down.  

Needless to say, pressing the issue hasn’t gained John more than the usual _None of your goddamn business!_ , though it's all snap, no venom. 

There’s been no mention of what happened at the Piano Bar since Sollux’s visit either. By now it feels like months ago, but it’s only been a couple weeks. No police, no posters, no nothing. John hopes it means that they’ve lost interest in the case. Could he even recount what had happened if he ever needed to? With each passing day, it feels like the events of that night grow hazier in his mind, until he’s not sure _what_ he saw. There as a moment where remembered standing over the body… there’d been so much blood..

“Crocker. Oi, John. Fuckin’.. JOHN.” Someone is snapping their fingers in front of his face. When he looks up, Dave and Karkat are both staring at him.

“Hey. Um, sorry. Could you say that again?”

“What’s the point of saying anything if you’re not going to fucking listen?” Karkat asks, angrily biting into his toast.

It’s just after breakfast and the three are currently standing in the pit of the main stage, gathered around an upright piano. John and Dave had barely entered the mess hall when Karkat ushered them back out again, Nepeta sending them sympathetic looks from behind her oatmeal. 

Out in the audience, two burly men wearing black jackets sit muttering quietly. Karkat told John to ignore them, but that was easier said than done, with the way Karkat's brown eyes continue to flicker towards them and back again.

“Pretty sure we just agreed to let him play it both ways.” Dave says in a bored tone. “And that you were going to chill until he was done so we could make a decision.”

“And I’m pretty sure that _I said_ it’s a stupid idea because we can’t build anything around him mashing the keys like an overgrown infant.”

“Hey buddy, I’ve been playing the piano my whole life,” John interjects. “I think I can handle a few measly pages.”

“Cool. It’s just for rehearsal anyway. TZ needs someone to keep time during her walk and we’ve got to keep it professional for the suits,” Dave says, pointing.

High above their heads, a blindfolded Terezi waits near the tight wire. She cups a hand to her mouth. “Some time today would be nice!” 

“No one’s talking to you!” Karkat shouts back crossly. “Keep your shirt on!”

Bickering in earnest, John tunes them out while he tests the piano’s keys. They yield easily to his touch, cool beneath his fingers. A wave of nausea washes over him. 

 “Thanks again for doing this,” Dave sighs, dropping onto the bench beside him. “I know Vantas has been keeping you occupied, but with Rose and Jade not being around, there wasn’t much choice.”

“It’s fine.” John’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Where’d Rose go?”

“Who cares?” Karkat snarls, momentarily distracted.

“She and Kanaya said they had something to take care of in town. They’re always sneaking off together, I stopped asking for details.”

John nods wordlessly. Since the party, he couldn’t help but notice that the two women seemed awfully close. Friendship was an obvious explanation, but there was something about the way they looked at each other and the manner in which they touched that didn’t appear entirely platonic. Being around them made John feel…, well, not _uncomfortable_ — he wasn’t sure what. Hell, he’d woken up only days ago with his arms wrapped around Karkat and the hangover from hell. There was no room to judge. 

“Here’s the sheet music,” Dave says, interrupting John’s train of thought. “Yo, TZ! We’re ready to go! Hit your mark!”

John squares his shoulders, positions his fingers over the keys. Karkat moves to stand on his other side with his back to the audience. He nods. 

 

_The old man sets the music in front of you. It’s a baby grand piano, the ebony body smooth and glossy, his pride and joy. He pats it before settling down in a chair next to you, eyes closed as you begin to play. The song is easy, a fun classical piece with just enough improvisation to keep it interesting. Your fingers fly over the keys, and when you’re done, you know you’ve impressed him because he’s smiling, even with his eyes still closed._

_He’s sitting beside you now. He’s saying something about…his grandson? You feel safe. It was in the safe … His smile is so kind._

_Behind you the door slams. Gunshots. Broken glass. The old man’s body is slumped over the keys and you try to lift him, try to get him to sit up, but there’s so much blood and now it’s on your hands and your clothes and all over the keys. Ebony, ivory, and red, so much red. His eyes are still closed and he’s smiling—_

 

“JOHN!” 

John blinks slowly, peering up at Karkat who kneels over him, eyes wide. The floor is hard and he’s on his back, almost as if he’d—

“—passed out. Nasty spill, too. You okay?” Dave sits John up, face etched with concern. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” The words are thick around the edges, a mouthful of cotton.

“The hell you are,” Karkat gives John’s shoulder a rough shake. “What the fuck was that all about? Do you always fall ass backwards in an attempt to crack your skull open?”

“Hey, chill Vantas. Can you stand?” Dave turns back to John and together they help him stagger to his feet.

“You guys, I swear I’m okay. I—I’m just gonna splash some cold water on my face.” John hurries down the aisle and out the side door towards the bathroom. He’s just opening the tap when Karkat slips in behind him and shuts the door.

“Karkat, c’mon,” John huffs, rubbing at his face. “I know I screwed up.”

“It was only a rehearsal. See? I’m perfectly calm and rational.”

John looks up from the bowl and offers him a weak smile in the mirror, bangs dripping with water. “You still look like you want to bite my head off.”

“What would be the point, we both know there’s nothing in there.” Karkat leans against the door, impatient for the water to stop running. When a shiver runs down John’s spine, he tells himself it’s the cool water and has nothing to do with Karkat’s stare.

“You’re not fine.” Karkat says grimly. The smile fades from John’s face, replaced by a hard line when he turns. 

“You should go. I’ve got to take a leak.”

“Oh? Wow. And you’re sure this is the right place?”

“I mean it Karkat,” John steps towards the toilet, flipping up the seat. “I have to pee like a race horse, I drank so much water today. Sticking around would totally make you a pervert weirdo.”

“Is it about what happened at the bar?” 

John doesn’t answer, but he can feel his jaw twitch. It’s not fair, he’s never had a good poker face, even when he needs it. Karkat surges on. “ ‘Cause unless you’re sick, or you’re on something, which if you are, you really need to fucking tell me, I can only assume that the bar is what’s got you so fucking spooked.”

“I’m not _spooked_ , Karkat, it’s not like it’s a ghost.”

“Yeah, _you’re_ the ghost, shitbag. Did you miss how pale you look right now? Tell me what happened!”

“Oh no,” John draws out the words, shaking his head. “I’m not telling you diddly squat. You won’t even tell me about that dumb phone call, and suddenly I’m supposed to word vomit personal junk all over you? I don’t think so.”

“Listen, you heaving bucket of stale jizzum, this isn’t the time for petty bullshit! This is important!”

John makes a zipping motion across his lips. 

“FINE. Don’t tell me,” Karkat fumes, shoving away from the door. “God forbid we ever pull our heads out of our asses long enough to handle this situation like adults. We’re locked in a bathroom squabbling over a goddamn toilet like a pair of infants and somehow the only excrement is the garbage spewing out of your mouth.”

“Gross.” 

“—But if you can’t play the piano without fainting like some harlequin wench, we have to find you another gig,” Karkat continues, “and I think the answer is pretty fucking obvious.”

“It is?” John slips his glasses back on. 

“Yeah. We need a new act and even if you’re a failure at almost everything else, you’re pretty good at magic. So that’s what you’re going to do. Ta-fucking-da.”

Karkat’s shoulders rise and fall. A moment of silence passes between them.

“You think I’m good at magic.” John says with a smug grin. Karkat flushes with a scowl, like he wants to take the compliment back but knows he can’t. He settles with using a palm to shove John’s face. 

“Are you listening? A thirty minute amateur act right before Terezi or the twins. We’ll have to put you in a mask or hood —some bullshit to cover your face, but if you can pull it off… Then, yeah.” 

“I’ve got a fake mustache,” John says eagerly. “I thought it might come in handy!”

Karkat pinches his nose and groans. “You’re already making me regret this.” 

“Karkat!” John pulls the smaller man into his arms, squeezing tight. His head only comes up to John’s collarbones, but he nuzzles into the nest of dark hair anyway. He feels Karkat tense, then relax and John wonders if Karkat can hear the way his heart has sped up.

“Hey lovebirds,” Dave’s muffled voice comes through the door, “your seven minutes in heaven are up. The suits want a word.”

“Shit,” Karkat tears himself out of John’s grip and wrenches the door open. “Where?”

“Sent ‘em to your office, chief.” Dave steps aside and Karkat takes off down the hall. John rubs the back of his neck and tries not to think about the weird sense of loss fluttering inside his chest.

 

++++    +++++    +++++

 

Two weeks later John paces backstage, dressed in a sharp suit and more nervous than he’d like to admit. Finding a break in the heavy red curtains, he draws it aside to peek at the audience. There’s a lot more people than he’d expected, families and couples filing down the rows to fill the closest seats. To John’s right Gamzee mans the stage in full costume, simultaneously riding a unicycle while spinning plates. It’s what Karkat referred to as the “dumb act” — something to hold the crowd over while finding their seats, but didn’t require attention to be paid. In that respect Gamzee fills the role perfectly. He seems content, oblivious to whether anyone cares about what he’s actually doing. John couldn’t imagine Vriska in that role. She’s probably jump down from her bar and begin yelling into the crowd, giving Karkat all kinds of damage to control. Idly he makes a not to ask if it’s something that has ever happened before.

“Nervous?” Rose is peeking over his shoulder. 

John shakes his head. “I don’t think so? Maybe. It feels like when I have butterflies in my stomach or I really need to pee.”

She nods, sympathetically. “Don’t worry, it happens to everyone.” 

“Peeing?” John quips, turning around. He does a double take. 

Rose looks radiant tonight in her costume: a form-fitting purple bodice trimmed with black lace and gold thread along the boning. Black ribbon winds up her arms in an intricate pattern, while black fishnet stockings adorn her legs. She wears nothing on her feet. That explains how she’d managed to sneak up on him.

Rose catches him staring and smirks. “Would it be awkward to remind you that my brother sees me dressed like this almost every night?”

“Yes Rose, that would be awkward.”  

“Hmm. Well I’m glad we avoided that particular faux pas. Stand still, I need to put my shoes on.” 

She places a hand on John’s shoulder to slip on one black pump, then the other. Even with the boost in height, she still only comes up to his collar. Same as Karkat …not that that’s important. Why was he even thinking about that right now, he should be taking inventory. Trick scarf, left pocket. Card deck, right breast pocket. White rabbit hiding in the cardboard box under the drop floor, stage box three—

“Don’t forget your mask.” Rose holds out a piece of dark blue fabric. John stoops so that she can tie it around his face, positioning the eyeholes where his glasses would be. Once done, she steps back and winks. 

“You’re going to be great out there.”

 

++++    +++++    +++++

 

John places the rabbit back in the hat to a round of thunderous applause. The audience stands to their feet, except for an impeccably dressed man in the front row who makes a point of remaining seated. Pushing his glasses up his nose, he scrutinizes John through narrow lids before scribbling furiously in a notepad on his lap. 

John stiffens. Everyone is still clapping, but he finds himself frozen in place, watching the man whose pen hasn’t stopped moving. 

From the wings, Karkat furiously motions for him to get off the stage. John bows once, twice, and scurries off, practically barreling into Karkat in his hurry to reach the safety of the curtains. 

To his credit, Karkat steadies him first, gripping John’s arms and scooting them out of the way as Kanaya breezes by to introduce the next act.

“What is it? What’s wrong!?” 

“There’s someone out there,” John whispers frantically. “In the audience. He was watching me.” Karkat opens his mouth to make what can only be a snide remark. “He was taking notes,” John barrels on. He looks over his shoulder like he expects the stranger to follow him backstage. “Right there, in the front row, writing everything down.”

“Are you sure?” Karkat moves towards the drops and grips the fabric, cautiously drawing them back to examine the crowd. John creeps up behind him, a hand on his shoulder.

“See him? The guy with the vest and the tie.” 

“Damn.” Karkat draws away from the curtain, swearing under his breath. “That’s a newspaper guy.”

“A reporter?” John looks incredulous. “But that guy’s dressed like an ambassador or something. Aren’t paper guys supposed to be scrappy and hardboiled? Why’s he writing about me?”

“Calm down, numb-nuts.” Karkat looks anything but calm, cupping his elbow and biting his knuckles. “That guy comes here sometimes, usually to watch Feferi. Probably thinks writing her good reviews will eventually get her in the sack. He tried to sneak backstage a couple of times until Sollux stepped in.” Karkat drops his arm. “You’re a new act though, it makes sense that he’d want to write about you.”

John immediately shakes his head. “You didn’t see the way he was looking at me. It was totally suspicious, like I offended him or he was sizing me up.”

“But you’ve never seen him before, right? Unless you did something shitty to him without realizing it. You’re definitely the type.”

“Thanks for that, Karkat, real nice.”

“Look. At this point all he’s got is a stage name. I’ll warn the others in case he tries anything now that Sollux isn’t around. Just try to avoid that fucker like the plague, got it?” 

There’s a fierce look in Karkat’s eyes, the kind that says _I seriously need you not to fuck around with this one_.

“Yeah,” John nods faintly. “I got it.”

 

++++    +++++    +++++

 

Backstage, beyond the dusty sets and lighting rigs, there is a rickety set of wooden stairs that lead up from one side of the stage to an equally rickety breezeway and down to the other side. They’re only for emergency cases, often used by the aerial artists like Vriska and Terezi as an alternate way to reach the platforms and secure wires. 

John climbs them now, unperturbed. He’s light on his feet, and it’s the simplest way to reach the dressing area without drawing attention. It’s after he descends from the last step that a figure launches themselves at him, arms suffocating his neck until he choking on air.

“Hghjs;lsasldkannnn!”

“I saw everything! You looked so cool out there, I’m so proud of you!” A petite girl with long dark hair and a heart shaped face draws back, bright green eyes beaming at him.

“Jade? Oh my god, welcome back!” It’s John’s turn to administer a bone crushing hug, which she returns with equal fervor until she has him slapping at her back in surrender. 

“When did you get back? Were you waiting here for me?” His voice sounds considerably strained. 

She nods. “I went backstage, but you started climbing the stairs before I could stop you, so I ran around to the other side.”

“Wow, haha. You must have been eager to see me.” 

“Of course!” Jade leans in with a conspiratory whisper. “Plus I have things to tell you. Sooooo many things. All the things.” She playfully nudges him and John rolls his eyes.

“How’s my dad?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Jade’s demeanor changes. “I knew you’d ask me that,” she mutters under her breath. 

“Uh yeah. What kind of son would I be if I didn’t?”

“The kind who runs away from home in order to become a manly man and ends up looking like a jerk face.” 

“Jade, please. He can’t— I mean, he’s not that mad, is he?”

Instead of answering, Jade reaches into the pocket of her traveling cloak and removes an envelope. John hadn’t even noticed she still had it on. She must really have just arrived, meaning he was the first person she sought out. As touched as he’d like to feel, there’s an anxiety paired with her instance to find him that gives John an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

“He wanted me to give this to you.”

John takes the envelope but doesn’t open it. “Son” is written on the front in his father’s crisp script, though he knows the note itself will be typewritten. He turns the envelope over in his hand. It’s sealed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment, critique, and kudos are all appreciated! I may not always reply but I promise I appreciate every one ♥ (& I'd like to know how I'm doing and what I can improve on.)


	6. Blue and Gold Print

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jade Returns, Eridan Plants Seeds of Doubt, John Has Daddy Issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Belated Wiggling Day, Karkat Vantas ❤

John is still staring down at the envelope in his hand when Jade draws a fist back and punches him in the arm with all her might.

"Jade, what the hell!??" John stumbles back, his eyes wide. He likes to think he has decent upper body strength, but even from a young age Jade has always packed a mean wallop. “Jesus..”

"You just looked so upset,” she says by way of apology. “I thought it would distract you!”

“Wow, so helpful. Distraction punches for all.” John gripes, rubbing his shoulder.

Jade rolls her eyes. “Don’t be such a baby. Oh! I saw you with Karkat earlier. Seems like you guys are pretty chummy!”

“Hehe yeah. He’s funny and nice, even when he pretends to be angry and yells at everyone.” Familiar warmth bubbles in John’s chest. It’s been happening more and more lately, something he hasn’t been able to put weight to. Like when a cat curls in his lap of its own volition, or the first dip of cool water washing over his skin.

Like knowing someone is thinking about him, very far away.

John slips his father’s letter into his pocket and takes Jade’s hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze. “Let’s go have a reunion, eh?”

+++

He and Jade sneak back into the auditorium just in time to catch The Derse Twins' performance. John has tied his mask on again, standing against a support beam towards the back of the room with Jade at his side. Together they watch as Dave and Rose enter from opposite sides of the stage.

Their act is fascinating and John can see why the pair headline so often. It starts off with easy marks, Dave flinging daggers while Rose stands against a board, exchanging barbs as silkily as drinking tea in a parlor. Then Rose is secured to a spinning wheel while Dave throws blindfolded, resulting is several near misses that cause the audience to gasp audibly.

At the end of the act Rose throws one of the knives at Dave who, still blindfolded, catches it in his teeth. John’s seen him practice that one with Terezi several times— something about heightened senses and sound velocity that he doesn’t really understand. The crowd roars, the siblings bow, and the curtain closes to thunderous applause.

To John’s relief the crowd disperses with no sign of the bespectacled reporter. He’s surprised when a handful of patrons approach him for autographs, signing them with a strange sense of awe. When a little girl waves at him, John smiles and waves back.

Backstage, congratulations are exchanged all around. He’s not used to the attention and it makes him feel anxious, though it’s Karkat’s lingering gaze that makes his stomach curl. The four friends are reunited in one place for the first time in years, and it’s only a little awkward when Dave and Jade avoid prolonged hugs or eye-contact.

+++

A week passes when John runs into Karkat folding playbills in the common area. He looks tired as ever, dark hair a frenzied mess, but doesn’t complain when John flops onto the couch beside him.

“Hey. Good news, Crocker. Alternia Press wants to do a story on you-- a three piece feature.”

The confusion must show on John's face because Karkat quickly elaborates. "That guy, the one who freaked you out during your set-- his name’s Eridan Ampora."

“And he wants to write a feature story… about _me_?”

"Apparently he was impressed with you," Karkat continues, as John picks up a bill to examine. It’s the line-up for next week and he’s on it, all coveted time slots.

"I know I told you to stay away from him, but this could be good. He’s either interested in your magic or your body; either way means free publicity for us. But don’t actually use your body,” Karkat adds as an afterthought, then immediately backpedals. “I mean, you can do what you want, you’re a fucking adult, you can sleep with whoever you want, I just want you to know you’re not my honeypot. Not that you couldn’t be a honeypot, look at you..” He’s so flustered.

John places his hands on Karkat’s cheeks and tilts his head up. Heat radiates off his face as John leans in. How is he supposed to say no?

“Alright. I'll do it."

Again, Eridan Ampora sits front row center at John's next performance. He’s wearing the same expensive clothes and the same focused frown, scrutinizing John even harder than last time. It causes him to drop the wand he’s holding, though he quickly recovers when it blooms into a bouquet of flowers. After a round of applause, John has just enough time to sprint to his dressing room and draw a comb through his damp hair before there's a sharp rap at the door.

"Come in," John shouts, fidgeting in front of the mirror.

Eridan enters, posture straight as a metal rod as he closes the door behind him. They spend an uncomfortable moment staring at each other until Eridan clears his throat expectantly.

“Oh right, sorry. Have a seat.” John gestures to a chair and waits for Eridan to sit before he does the same.

"You're still wearin' that mask," is the first thing Eridan says once he’s settled. His accent is odd, drawing out the ‘W’s like they’re rolling like waves between the syllables.

“Uh yeah. It adds to my air of mystique.”

"I.. see.” Eridan produces his notepad. “Looks like I'd better start you off with the no-brainers.”

John gulps.

“What's your name?"

"The Heir of Breath.”

“We’re doin’ the secret identity thing too? Gimme a break..” He writes it down, sighs. “You’re new to this outfit. Where are ya’ from?"

John hesitates. "Here?"

"You askin’ me or tellin’ me?"

“Oh well,” John laughs and it comes out high-pitched and strained. “Sometimes it's hard to keep places straight. I like to be wherever I am, you know?"

"No."

The interview doesn't get any smoother, John growing more agitated as Eridan's questions oscillate between probing and weirdly flirty.

"Does performing magic make you feel like a fraud knowin' it's not real an' you’re basically tryin' to fool gullible stooges with your parlor tricks?"

Eridan's deep blue eyes study his own with laser focus. From this close up John can see the faint freckles that dot the bridge of the reporter's nose. He looks younger now, and it gives the vague impression that he doesn't want to actually believe what he's saying. Calls to attention the way his speech patterns and starched clothing don't harmonize.

"Magic is as real as you or me," John says licking his lips. Eridan's eyes stray to follow the movement. "It's like luck or karma. Everybody knows about it; but only the people who believe in it benefit from it."

"Che. You sound like Vriska."

"That's right, you know her!" John scoots forward excitedly. “I bet she's made a lot of headlines."

"Pff. You could say that." Something about Eridan's tone gives John pause.

"What do you mean?"

Eridan rises from his seat, dusting imaginary specks off his expensive suit. “Look around you, kid. Don’t you wonder why Vriska doesn’t have an act? The way the police avoid this place?” He shakes his head. “Not to mention the way Vantas always seems hard up for money even though he’s making plenty of it.”

John stiffens. It would explain why Karkat refuses to use the grist even though he knows John has it. But maybe he can’t. Maybe John’s just _being there_ keeps him from using it. His heart speeds up even as he lifts his chin. “Karkat’s never mentioned anything like that to me.”

“Course not. Are you naive enough to think he’d actually tell you?”

The question hangs in the air and when John doesn’t say anything, Eridan nods knowingly. He gathers his things and lets himself out, stopping halfway to the door to give John a shrewd look. The whole thing reeks highly of drama, which is probably just what Eridan’s going for.

"These guys have a lot to hide. And if you're in with them, I’m guessin’ you do too."

+++

That night John finds it hard to sleep. Every creak of wood and curtain rustle seems to set his nerves on edge. He's not used to be this jumpy or this anxious, the feeling almost alien after the relief of the last few weeks. He'd finally begun to settle into theater life. To feel more secure in the friendships he’d been forming. Now Eridan's words had raised all kinds of feelings— unwelcome suspicions swimming around his head like a predator breaching the surface.

Rising from the bed, John throws on a pair of jeans and a worn t-shirt. Being alone with his thoughts wasn't doing him any favors. Maybe he'd walk the courtyard or work on his routine. If he was lucky Karkat might be up and he could keep him company. The last time he couldn’t sleep, they’d stayed up playing cards until Karkat scattered the entire deck in frustration. John chuckled at the thought.

On the bedside table next to his glasses, the letter remains unopened. John knows Jade is anxious for him to read it— weeks have gone by. There’s really no excuse. He fingers the envelope idly before shoving it under his pillow with a frown. It'll still be there when he gets back.

Downstairs, John pads along the halls, his feet guiding him almost unconsciously towards Karkat's office. When he gets there the door is ajar, light spilling across the floor.

Karkat looks up from his leather journal. "Insomnia is a good look on you, Egbert." It's a small contrition between the two of them, using John's surname in private. "A few more nights and we can feed you bamboo, make the transformation complete.“

"Har har." John leans forward, eyeing the notebook curiously. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing." It disappears into the desk again. Karkat rises to open the window behind him and John follows, resting against the frame. The breeze is cool and delicious, caressing his exposed skin.

"How'd the interview go?" Karkat asks after a few minutes of companionable silence.

"..Are you absolutely sure I have to do two more?"

He snorts. "That bad, huh? I hear you. Eridan can be a pain in the ass but he’s harmless."

John bites his lip. _It doesn’t feel that way_.

Now would be the perfect opportunity to bring up whatever Eridan had hinted at. They're alone and Karkat's in a good mood. Free of the tension that usually rides him, he’s relaxed in a way John's knows others don’t get to see. When he smiles—like he’s doing now— it's almost wistful; like he's remembering something especially good and finally feels safe enough in this place beside him to show it.

The realization hits: John doesn’t want anyone else to see this. Can’t risk it’s ruin. It's private, something to be cherished, kept like a secret close to his heart.

"What? Why are you staring at me?"

"I'm not!" John lies, heat flooding his face. Karkat gives him a skeptical look but doesn't say anything. Someone moves closer and they stand flush, gazing out into the night. Pinpricks seems to pulse all along the places where they brush against each other. John doesn't know how long they stay that way, bodies alight, hearts erratic, but when morning comes, he's fast asleep and peaceful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, critique, and kudos are all appreciated!  
>  ~~I'm not sure anyone is reading this..~~


	7. Staring Contest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spades Slick issues an ultimatum. Karkat drinks absinthe. John gets a promotion in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another lengthy chapter! I need to start writing ahead;;  
> TW: There's a stabbing/blood mention but nothing too graphic.

The trouble begins the night of Kanaya's birthday party.

Karkat walks into the pharmacy with his head down, shoulders squared. It's late and the lights are dim, the scent of menthol and anaseptic assaulting his nose. Glass bottles in a variety of colors, shapes, and sizes gleam in the darkness, casting strange shadows across the wooden floor.

Behind the register sits a man reading the newspaper, printed pages obscuring his face. He lowers the Personals to scrutinize him warily, barely offering Karkat a perceptible nod when their eyes meet before losing interest.

Towards the back of the store, behind a sizable display of hair tonics and dipilatory creams, sits a small booth with a rotary phone. Karkat doesn't bother to sit down, snapping the rotary as he dials, tapping his leg impatiently.

A gruff voice picks up. "Password."

"Fuck that. Just tell him I'm here."

There's silence, then what he thinks is stiffled laughter. "E-3. Good luck kid. He's out for blood tonight."

Karkat hangs up and immediately heads towards the busted Cola machine, hitting the required buttons that will release the catch. Swinging open the display's facade, he descends the hidden staircase behind it.

 

+++++

 

On principle Karkat's not a big fan of Speakeasies, but tonight he's the guest of one Kanaya Maryam, celebrating twenty-three years around the Sun. Unfortunately there's also something else-- _someone_  else-- that he has to deal with before the festivities, and they have the audcity to own the same particular building.

There are no windows downstairs, just cement slabs and brick walls to contain the din that grows louder as Karkat walks down. Underground the party's already in full swing, air thick with sex and libations. Down the hall in the opposite direction is a black door with a door knocker in the shape of a spade. Karkat heads towards it, letting himself in with no preamble.

"Where are your manners, kid?" Slick leans back in his office chair, sinking into the cushion with the grace of a well-fed cat. "Whose to say I wasn't in here with my pants around my ankles, some broad on the desk?"

"Like you could get any," Karkat grimaces. Knowing his uncle ( _adopted_  uncle, he reminds himself with relief), he's better off avoiding the desk-- just in case. He takes a seat, Slick snickering the whole time.

"Well?" Karkat eyes him expectantly. "I'm here. Can't imagine you wanted to have a nice chat over a game of bridge."

Slick gives him that ominous smile Karkat hates, drawing things out just to antagonize him. Rattles some pens, shuffles some papers. Here, kid, a humble offering of Scottie Dogs, finest this city has to offer.

"How's the new kid workin' out?"

Karkat makes no attempt to hide his scowl. "Why ask me? Last I heard you were doing just fine collecting information without my help."

"What's this?" Slick tilts his head in mock concern. "I thought loudmouths like you loved sharin' their opinions. _Unsolicited_ , I might add."

"Well you thought wrong, so just tell me what Lalonde told you and I'll back that horse."

"I'll do you one better." Slick grabs a folded newspaper from the edge of his desk and slides it towards Karkat, lighting a cigarette while the other eyes it warily.

It's Eridan Ampora's article, complete with a stock photo of John in full costume, holding a rabbit in his arms. Karkat has already read the article word for word, secretly pouring over it in the privacy of his office, and again at the breakfast table, Vriska snatching it from his hands to read the most glowing praise out loud to everyone in the room. To his credit John took the praise gracefully, laughing at all the right moments and smiling in a way that didn't quite reach his eyes. He'd been out of sorts since the morning after visiting Karkat's office, something of a mystery since he'd looked perfectly content that night. There'd been a brief moment where Karkat sensed something weighing on John's mind, but it passed just as quickly. Now, instead of wallowing, John was acting even cheerier than usual, crossing the line from charming to what Karkat considers to be Terezi-Pyrope-levels of obnoxious.

Releasing a plume of smoke, Slick gestures to the paper. "It's a doozy. Half a page waxin' poetic 'bout the new kid, and word is that fishy reporter they sent ain't spreadin' it thick either." Another billowing exhale. "What do you say?"

"I say go see him for yourself if you really give a shit." The words are out his mouth before Karkat has time to think them. "What kind of incompetent dick shiner can't be bothered to do his own recon? I mean yeah, the act's still rough around the edges, and some of the tricks are kiddie time baby spew, but he fills a decent amount of seats--"

Slick waves a dismissive hand. "Aright, aright already, I got it. Jesus." He gives his face a contemplative rub, lingering on the deep scar that marrs his grizzled chin.

"Make him the headliner."  
  
"Headliner. Of what." Karkat repeats with the patronizing air used to address slow children. He can't be hearing what he thinks he is.  
  
"He's the big act, starting now. I'm not hoofin' it down there for some two-bit hack. Let the money tell me what kinda product we've got."  
  
Karkat bristles at the comparison. "Did you have a stroke? He's done _four_ shows since he got here, and suddenly he's top billing? His act isn't built to backbone the whole group."

"So you talk to 'em. Beef it up."

"Even if I do, the others not gonna go for it. Bumpin' The Twins? Not to mention Terezi and Vriska? It's goddamn suicide."

"You let me handle them. You handle Crocker," Slick gives him a hard look. "I'm not going to ask you twice."

Karkat slams his hands on the desk. "You wouldn't have to ask me at all if you'd let me buy the fucking place! The eviction notices have been coming non-stop. Let me take it off your hands!"

"What would you have? A building. No suppliers, no protection, no connections." Slick twirls an expensive pocket knife while he speaks, deft as Dave and twice as fast. "Your Pops but my name on the deed, not yours. Your pocket change couldn't buy the bird shit on the front steps."

"You think I can't get the money?" Karkat presses.

"No, I don't. 'Cause any money you make is mine as soon as you make it." Slick's voice is low as he studies Karkat's stormy face. "Where's this sudden windfall coming from? Been saving up your breadcrumbs? Another rich uncle I don't know about?"

"You of all people shouldn't care where I get it, as long as I have it. Or is it  _Hypocrite Clusterfuck Hour_  already?"

"Kid if I thought you could get me the money, I'd let you have the place, everything square. But until then, you do what I say, when I say it." He stop swinging the blade and brings it down to sink into the meat of Karkat's hand. It slices like butter, blood oozing quiet across the desk.

Karkat doesn't flinch, his eyes steel.

"We'll see."

 

+++++

 

There's a full bar and a trio: piano, upright bass, drums, playing something jumpy and syncopated that the people can dance to.

And dance they do. Karkat can hardly make his way through the crowd without moving to avoid some spazmaster's twitching limbs. A bald man in overalls dips his partner and Karkat barely avoids the collision, sidling by them with a pointed glare.

He's deciding whether to order a drink or find the others when the band starts a new song, joined on stage by a familiar figure with a lanky build gripping a horn.

In his other hand is a purple bottle, only familiar to Karkat due to the amount of times he's had to wrestle it out of his hands, hide it, or flush the contents down the toilet. Now he watches as Gamzee takes a long swig, pocketing the odious "medicine," before placing his fingers on the trumpet's valves.

Fuck no. He is not dealing with this tonight.

A shrill whistle pierces the air, and Karkat spins.

"Karkat!" Jade pulls her fingers from her mouth and waves him over.

Cutting through the sea of people, Karkat safely anchors himself to the booth Jade occupies with Kanaya, Rose, Tavros, Dave, and Aradia. Her side of the table is full, leaving him to wedge in next to Dave on the other end.

"Pretty sure you summoned some dogs too," Dave says mildly, wringing his ear.  
  
"Oh shush. It worked didn't it?" Jade sticks out her tongue. "Anyway, you're just in time, Karkat. We're about to toast the birthday girl!"  
  
The attention shifts to Kanaya, who gives them all a demure smile in turn. Tonight she's positively glowing, dressed in a simple black frock with a plunging neckline and a rose pinned to her lapel. She arches a shapely brow at Karkat.

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming."

"I had to make a stop," he say curtly. It sounds just enough like the truth that it is and the lie it wants to be to elicit Kanaya's immediate suspicion. Her gaze slides to his injured hand, which Karkat quickly slips under the table, then back to his face. The unspoken reprimand sends an unsavory spike of guilt up his spine. He should have at least brought flowers.

"Where are the others?" Karkat asks hastily, scanning the crowd for dark hair and broad shoulders. As long as he's tumbling ass-first down shame mountain, there's no reason not to mix business with pleasure.  
  
"You've already, uh, seen Gamzee," Tavros says, indicating the stage, cinging when the trumpeter blows a particularly high note. "But we lost sight of Vriska, a while ago."

"Oh. ..And where's John?" To Karkat's right, Dave smirks. 

_Real subtle, Vantas._

"Don't worry, he's around here somewhere."

"John!" Jade shouts, catching sight of her cousin. Karkat turns in his seat. John emerges from the dance floor with Terezi in tow, looking more attractive than anyone that unsteady on his feet has right to be. His clear blue eyes are bright, dark hair disheveled. The physical exertion of dancing flushes his body in a way that suggests more post-coital than fancy footwork. It takes all Karkat's force of will to tear his eyes away.

"Hey everyone!" John drips such a highly concentrated amount of saccharine cheeriness Karkat can feel his teeth ache. "Hey, can I sit down? I'm pooped."

John's not speaking to him, but Jade, who easily switches places in favor of obtaining more drinks. John flashes Karkat a toothy grin as he slides into the booth across from him, leaning forward to whisper conspiratorially, "Terezi kept trying to stomp on my feet."

"Yeah?" John smells..*really* good-- honeyed soap, sweat, something smoky. He runs the taste across his mind, across his tongue, and his feels dry. "She must be warming up to you."

He snorts. "Yeah, no. Warming up is the very opposite of what is happening there." Someone's left a glass of water on the table and John helps himself. "Where were you anyway? I was looking forward to hanging out. Got some new jokes to try out on youuu.." He cajoles.

"We're hanging out now," Karkat scoffs, trying to ignore the way the attention makes his stomach flutter. "Ever consider the possibility that I might be tired of your idiotic jokes, let alone your face?"

"Nope," John grins and Karkat has to fight the smile tugging at his lips.

"Dumbass."

Jade returns with a round of drinks and once they're distributed, Karkat examines his glass; it's filled to the brim with a bright translucent liquid the color of spring.

"Is this hemlock?" Aradia clutches her glass, looking hopeful.

"Guess that solves the mystery of what to order when Megido's birthday rolls around," Dave deadpans.

"You're close," Karkat informs her. "Now try to imagine what a couple of flighty broads might drink to addle their brains while _simultaneously_  being as pretentious as possible."

"He's right you know," Kanaya drawls, threading an arm through Rose's. "One should never doubt our powers of pretention." In reponse, Rose presses her lips to Kanaya's glass, marking it with a perfectly lacquered pout before releasing her lover's wrist. She lifts her own glass and the others around the table follow suit.

"Vive ma belle fée verte. Happy Birthday."

The absinthe goes down smooth, the herbal taste tinged with a sweetness that echoes its razor-thin burn. Congratulatory well-wishes are exchanged all around, and when Rose leans in to kiss her girlfriend properly, Karkat glances away to find John watching him over the edge of his glass.

It's different from the coy bullshit John usually pulls when he's feeling playful: staring contests and grotesque faces he thinks will cause Karkat to break character when they're together. Karkat's own gaze often wanders over eyes, hands, mouth, memorizing.

Now those clear blue eyes feel like they're challenging him to an entirely different game, staring with a strange intensity that Karkat is too obstinate to look away from, but knows will show up in his dreams if he doesn't. Touching himself in the dead of night at the thought of John's long fingers and his stare.

"--ing to piss myself."

"What?" Karkat starts, Dave adamantly poking his side.

"I said, I'm gonna piss myself if you don't scoot," Dave repeats. "I'da jumped over but I didn't want to interrupt the salacious eye-fucking." He shakes his head. "Even I need a cold shower."

"How about I dunk your smug face in the toilet, you fatuous windbag?" Karkat snarls, blushing with embarrassment.

"Sounds hot. John, wanna come?" _Phrasing._

"Dude," John sounds more annoyed than anything else. "Just go pee already." Karkat slides to let Dave out and John avoids his eye when he hops from the booth too.

"I'm gonna... I need some air." He's in the grip of a nervous, jumpy energy. Maybe Dave was right about that cold shower.

"I'll come with you."

John hesitates but doesn't protest, glancing around until he spots a back door leading into the alley.

 

+++++

 

Outside it's damp, everything shrouded in a thin sheet of rain. A small staircase leads up to ground level, tucked out of sight from the main road. Odds are they won't be disturbed.

The door swings shut and they both take a deep breath. Slowly exhale. Karkat waits awkwardly, unsure how long he's supposed to stay quiet or if the silence is because John's waiting for him to speak first. Which is fair-- he kind of _did_ follow him out here.

_Sorry to intrude Egbert, but the desire to stick my tongue down your throat apparently overrides the pitiful amount of tact I have left._

John is staring at him again, blushing so fiercely that for a moment, Karkat thinks he might've said the words outloud. But that can't be true or Egbert would have run screaming into the night by now.

"Okay," he starts, pacing. "Clearly what just happened back there is obstacle number one on our hilarious to-do list of awkward conversations, but it's really important you listen what I'm about to--"

"Karkat, stop," John's suddenly right in front of him, clenching his fists and looking determined. "This is stupid. We should just.. I mean, unless you think it's a stupid idea.."

"What did I _JUST_ say about listening to me? Let me say what I have to say and then we can talk about whatever inane bullshit you have floating around your--"

"Will you shut up?" John says in exasperation, ducking his face to fill Karkat's field of vision until all he sees is blue. "Just stand still, I'm trying to--"

"--Slick wants me to make you the headline act!" Karkat blurts, gaping at John's mouth which is mere cenimeters from his own.

A beat of silence, then--

"What?" John blinks stupidly. He straightens but doesn't back away. Karkat's face feels like it's on fire.

"I met with him tonight before coming here. I didn't have a choice." He quickly summarizes their discussion, careful to leave out the bit about his hand. When he's done, John is shaking his head in disbelief.

"I just started! Who becomes the main act after a few weeks???"

"The guy is a crazy psychopath," Karkat explains, "but Eridan's article has him convinced, and ticket sales are up. If I have any chance of buying the place, I can't fuck up the easy stuff."

"Easy?!" John flails his hands. "So easy, just a boy magician who fled a murder scene, hiding from the authorities by HEADLINING one of the BIGGEST theaters in town!"

"Ok ok ok!" Karkat snaps, losing patience. "Look, no one's come after you except that time with Sollux, right? You wear a costume that covers your face, you have a place to live, why, you even visit public places _sans disguise_!" He indicates their surrounds. "For Christ's sake, anyone stalking you _now_  would have to be some kind of sadist dragging it out for shits and giggles!"

At these words John visibly relaxes a bit. Karkat worries his lip. "You should probably be more worried about the people _inside_ the theater than outside of it."

John frowns. "I don't understand."

"Some numskulls won't take kindly to how fast you're rising in the ranks." Karkat fondly flicks his forehead. "So maybe try not to be a shitstain about it and you'll be fine."

"Oww." He rubs at his head. John appears to be considering something, eyes slightly dazed as he stares off into the distance. "It's a pretty big deal, huh?"

"Yep. Big."

"What about the other conversation we're supposed to have?" Karkat looks up and John's eyes are searching his face. He swallows hard.

"That's a pretty big deal too."

John nods. Buries his head in the crook of Karkat's neck and shoulder. His arms find their way around Karkat's waist and, his pulse roaring in his ears.

"..Hey," John asks, peering up. "What kind of flower do you wear on your face?"

"You--" Karkat's breath catches and sticks. "You're kidding me. _Now?_ " How dare this moron try out a joke-- hell, anything that requires _neurons_ \-- when he's pressed up against him like this.

"Tulips," John chuckles, and Karkat's groan is muffled because now their lips are pressed together and his brain has flatlined, save for the hands that clumsily grip John's shirt when his knees give way.

John hums with approval, smiling into the kiss even as he deepens it, tilting Karkat's chin to work him open. Their teeth clack and John laughs again, moving to pull away until Karkat stops him with a clever flick of the tongue, lapping at his mouth, pleading.

Bang! The alley door flies open and John jumps back like he's been doused in cold water, hands out of the cookie jar, eyes wide with surprise. It's utterly ridiculous and Karkat wants to tell him so, but since Jade is walking towards them, he settles for wiping his mouth.

Jade makes no indication that she knows what they've been up to, though the roll of her eyes says as much. Taking them both by the wrist, she yanks in the direction of the stairs leading them towards the main street.

"C'mon, we gotta go. There's a problem."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THEY FINALLY KISSED. BUT WILL THEY HAVE A CHANCE TO DO IT AGAIN..?
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments / Critiques / Kudos are all welcome & appreciated! ---> fictional @ tumblr <3


	8. I Want To Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group gets an unpleasant surprise. Dave has a way with words.

Jade is reckless when she runs, dark hair whipping violently without a second thought for what John recognizes as her best! (and only) party dress. He knows because it was only a few hours after her arrival that she’d shown it to him, glowing with pride and anxious for an occasion to wear it out. Now it’s lace trim is caked with mud as she vaults a low fence at full speed. Still, even from childhood John’s always been faster, and it’s not long before he’s swiftly passed both of his companions, leaving Jade and Karkat to round the block long after he’s begun climbing the Altarf theater’s front steps. 

“Why are you making a federal case out of this??” Vriska shout rises from the veranda, growing more and more agitated under Rose and Kanaya’s combined scrutiny. They seemed to have left the party right after John and Karkat went through the side door, making it back in plenty of time.

Time. John mentally racked his brain. Just how much of it has passed since that moment in the alley? Fifteen minutes? No, thirty. Everything he recalls from the last hour is a foggy haze— except for kissing Karkat, which he only seems to recall in mortifying clarity. Just the thought of it was enough to make heat curl in the pit of his stomach.

Vriska shouts again, pulling John’s head out of the clouds.

“I told you what I saw!” She throws up her arms as Rose crosses her own, clearly exasperated. “For all you know I probably saved your dumb life! And what thanks do I get!? Snooty accusations hurled in my face like rotten tomatoes after Tavros’ act!”

Kanaya clicks her tongue. “You were the one who handed them—”

“We just want to know why you came back so early,” Rose continues, ignoring her girlfriend’s frown. “ _Alone_. Surely the timing strikes you as a bit odd.”

“And what about you? What brought you home so fast? Oh wait! No one cares!!!”

“I’m a recovering alcoholic which we’re both well aware of. Just like we’re both aware that Vriska Serket is always up for a good time. You’re not helping your argument.”

“Oh blow it out your rear, Lalonde. If you _must_  know I didn’t feel good.” Vriska’s answer is as flippant as it is unconvincing. “You know, queasy? _Sick_? A head case like you ought to know all about it.”

With a toss of her blonde hair she glances away, blue eyes widening when they notice John. The other girls follow suite, all eyes on him before Kanaya’s gaze moves to something over his shoulder.

"Karkat!"

Their leader is bent in two, hands on his knees in an effort to catch his breath. Kanaya hurries to his side, sweeping heavy, sweat soaked bangs out of his face. Jade, who’d been present just a moment ago is nowhere to be seen. They hadn’t even noticed when she disappeared. It was starting to become a bad habit.

"Stop staring," Karkat pants, waving John off when he moves to join them.“You.. and your cousin.. are goddamn race horses..”

After a few deep breathes Karkat straightens, takes his first good look at the building in front of them and freezes. From where they’d stood earlier, Vriska, Rose and Kanaya’s bodies had blocked the entryway, their conversation distracting John from taking in anything unusual about their surroundings. Having gathered around Karkat, their absence exposes what little remains of the theater’s front doors. One slab hangs pathetically by a single hinge, the other completely severed, splintered in half. John counts two, three, _four_  broken windows as Karkat brushes past him.

"Vriska didn't want us to wait for you," Kanaya says, her voice low. "But I thought in light of current... circumstances," a surreptitious glance at John, "you'd want to see it first."

“See _what_  first? The doors? Tangible evidence of my gross negligence involving any and all responsibilities I’ve been given!? Forgive me if I don’t thank you for pointing out the obvious!!!”

“I think the obvious course of action would be to call the police,” Rose drawls, pursing her lips. “But I don’t think that’s an option we can afford at the moment.”

“Why?” Vriska crosses her arms. “Just because Sollux isn’t around doesn’t mean some other tool can’t take a report.”

John knows he’s the reason Rose hesitates to respond and it feels him with guilt. This is definitely the kind of thing the authorities should be aware of. Especially if they were at risk of whoever did this coming back.

“We don’t need Sollux,” Karkat says bitterly. “We don’t need any cops sticking their noses in our business. Slick has enough pull to handle anything they could.”

“So should we contact him?”

Karkat shakes his head. “I’m not in the position right now to ask for favors and for all we know, it was one of his goons trying to make a point. No one talks to him until I say so. Got it?”

Everyone nods. Vriska rolls her eyes. With the agreement settled, Kanaya ascends the stairs and enters the foyer. A reluctant beat passes before Karkat follows. Rose is next, leaving Vriska at John’s side.

“About time you chumps showed up. Equius and Terezi are checking things out back."

“Terezi?!” John snaps his mouth shut when Vriska pinches his arm.

“No blind girl jokes. This one’s serious."

“This one? It’s happened _before_?” John’s eyes dart nervously, like the culprit is liable to jump out from behind a frame.

“Of coooooooourse. This place is a beacon for joes trying to scam a quick buck or dumb kids looking to get their rocks off.”

“So what are you guys doing about it? Why not hire some kind of security?”

Vriska looks at him as if his brain is leaking out of his ears. “Think about where you are, John. We ARE the security. Why do you think they waited until we were gone?”

"Where's everyone else? Where’s Dave?"

“Hmm. Last I remember, he and Nepeta were dealing with Gamzee back at Slick’s.” Up ahead, the others have come to a stop in the hallway outside Karkat’s office. “They'll probably end up taking him to Aradia's shop. Don’t ask me why but she’s got a soft spot for him. ‘Sides, he's no good to us when he gets like that.”

John wants to ask what exactly 'gets like that' means, but the look on Karkat's face stops him. He's obviously overheard the end of their conversation and the little that he’s picked up wasn’t anything he wanted to hear. He looks crestfallen, momentarily curling in on himself like the disappointment in his friend has somehow made him smaller. It only lasts for an instant. With John’s eyes still on him, Karkat sets his jaw and enters his office.

The place is in shambles. Papers have been torn to shreds, volumes gutted,covering the ground with bits and pages. The drawers of Karkat’s desk has been pulled out and overturned, their contents rolling across the floor. There are deep slashes in the leather chair now tipped on it’s side and curiously, several discarded candy wrappers sitting on the open window ledge.

A heavy silence descends on the room. Faced with the extent of the mess, none of them move, caught in various states of shock and dismay. Even Vriska seems to be at a loss for words, one hand rubbing the back of her neck.

“What the hell happened in here?”

Rose is the only one who doesn’t jump in surprise when Dave enters the room and lets out a low whistle. He’s shed his jacket from before, leaving on his waistcoat and loose tie. “Did Kanaya decide to redecorate the place with a chainsaw?”

“Even in the throes of domestic fury, I imagine I would show more restraint than this.”

Vriska snorts. “Hardly.”

“It’s nice of you to join us,” Rose says coolly. “How are things on your end?”

“Just peachy. According to Aradia, Mercury is in retrograde and Venus decided to move into Saturn’s house, so by logic and no bullshit whatsoever, I’m in for some exceptionally shameless necking. She put the clown down for a nap. Nep says she’ll stick around ’til he wakes up.” Dave doesn’t elaborate further, eyes moving around the room. “Did I mention how I’m still in the dark about the mess in here?Looks like the garbage end of a ticker-tape parade.”

“It is quite dark in here.” Kanaya moves across the room and lights one of the oil lamps. The room fills with an amber glow, their shadows stretched across the floor.

“..Where’d you get the shiner, Strider?” It’s the first time Karkat’s spoken since they’ve entered the room. Next to him, John gives Dave’s face a closer look. His dark glasses are still on but Karkat’s right: behind the right lens, the skin around his eye boasts a puffy kaleidoscope of purple.

“Really?” Rose murmurs, cupping her cheek.

“Whoever did it clocked you pretty good,” Vriska hoots.

“Sweetheart, you noticed.” When Karkat doesn’t answer, Dave shrugs. “It’s a story for another time. I’d much rather hear about your day. How are things at the office?”

“How do you think?” Karkat scowls. “Somebody broke in while we were at Slick’s and… SHIT!”

Karkat spins to look at his desk again.

"Shit shit shit shit shit..." Karkat runs over and begins rummaging through the debris, looking for something. The frantic way he tosses papers aside is alarming to say the least. John shares a look with Dave.

"What are you looking for?" John crouches down to help clear a space, piling the non-ripped papers as best he can. He’d never been very good with messes.

"Or more importantly," Dave asks, "What do you have that someone wants enough to do all this?”

"What makes you think I have anything?" Karkat says crossly, tossing another stack of papers. "I only run a popular entertainment venue that makes enough money to warrant having a safe on the other side of the room.”

They looks round. Said safe remains virtually untouched, although Vriska eyes it with piqued interest.

“Yeah. That’s why I’m all sorts of confused about the amount of attention you’re giving this desk.”

“Why would I keep everything of value in one place, Dave. Desks are where you keep documents. Deeds. Licenses. _Personal artifacts_.”

“Alright, alright, I get it. We’re here to help.” When Dave reaches down to give his shoulder a squeeze, Karkat frowns but doesn’t pull away. John wonders if that’s something he should have considered doing earlier and for a fleeting second he feels an unfamiliar spike of jealousy towards his best friend.

“We should check the other rooms,” Rose suggests. “Terezi and Equius are outback but there’s still the backstage area and upstairs. Not to mention the dressing rooms.”

“Good thinking, Lalonde.” Vriska hops away from the wall supporting her. “You and Kanaya can check the dressing rooms, we’ll go upstairs. Come on, John.”

John hesitates, biting his lip. He’s not sure how to voice that he wants to stay behind without making it obvious _why_  he’d want to stay behind. Rose comes to his rescue when she shakes her head. “You and Kanaya can search the rooms. I need to place a phone call. Dave, John, one of you should stand guard by the front door until we’re finished.”

“Ugh. Fine, whatever,” Vriska grouses, in an ill-conceived attempt at reluctance. She hooks the other girl’s wrist on her way out the door. “Let’s go, Maryam.”

Rose turns to John expectantly.

“I guess I’ll—”

“Crocker’ll go out front. I’ll stay here with Karkat.” Dave doesn’t meet John’s eyes when he speaks, his face impassive. “Once we’re done we’ll join the rest of you upstairs.”

“Got it.”

“Wait!” John interjects, eyes wide. If anyone should be playing bouncer, it should probably be the guy who threw knives for a living. So why send him out there, unless.. _Unless he’s trying to get rid of me._

“You’re just going to send me out there alone? What am I supposed to do if someone shows up?”

“You offer them a drink. Tell ‘em to take a load off. Come on, Crocker, you’re a big boy, you can handle it.”

“How long do I have to?”

“Half an hour, tops.”

John glances at Karkat willing him to disagree, but when he looks up it’s only to point an angry finger in the other direction. “Get out there, already!” 

“If you’re sure you guys don’t need more help here..” Rose lifts a brow as Dave takes hold of John's shoulders and steers him bodily towards the door.

“We’ve got it covered,” he says once they’re face to face in the hallway and out of earshot. “Give Vantas some space."

“He doesn’t need space Dave, he needs help. The place is completely wrecked and he’s hard enough on himself when everything’s fine!”

“Which is why he shouldn’t have a breakdown with all of his closest friends hovering over him while he does it.”

“Just you.”

Neither one says anything. From this distance, it’s easy to notice the way Dave’s glasses tilt to one side, the loose buttons and ruffled hair of his otherwise flawless appearance. It makes John aware of his own worn dress pants and the way his too small shoes pinch his feet.

“Look,” Dave sighs. “I know you want to be there for him, John, but you haven’t been around here that long. You don’t know Karkat the way the rest of us do. The way _I_  do. ..He’s been through a lot of stuff. Stuff he probably hasn’t told you yet because he doesn’t know how you’d take it and after everything that’s happened tonight, I’m not going to make him feel worse at the expense of making you feel better.”

_He doesn’t mean it the way it sounds. He’s your best friend._

“I still think we need to talk. You and me, I mean.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“You really need to put ice on your eye.”

“I know.”

The awkward silence stretches between them. Dave is the first to give, turning on his heel to head back to Karkat’s office. John watches him go, feeling like he should say something. A childish need to have the last word. He opens his mouth and shouts before the door closes,

“I don’t know who it was, but you probably deserved it!”

+++

 

The sun is a pale halo on the horizon by the time the group manages to finish inspecting downstairs, boarding the broken doors and windows (the doors, according to Equius, would take at least three days to ship. The windows could be repaired as soon as tomorrow), and compare notes. None of the dressing rooms had been ransacked, none of the equipment tampered with. Whoever had destroyed Karkat’s office had known exactly what they were looking for and where they needed to look.

He remembered Rose and Terezi, heads bent together as the latter suggested the possibility of an inside job. There wasn’t much evidence to support the idea, but it hadn’t stopped his mind from recalling the way Rose had questioned Vriska that evening.

_She’s not that kind of person. You can trust her._

With the knowledge that almost all the rooms downstairs were clear, the group had given the upstairs bedrooms a cursory once over at best. John figured his room could wait. It would be exactly how he’d left it —the grist bag hidden safely under a loose floorboard, his father’s letter tucked out of sight under his pillow, still waiting to be read. He would probably have to consider a new hiding place after this incident. Maybe he could ask Karkat to place the bag inside the safe. After all, the thief (or thieves, he reminded himself) hadn’t bothered to touch it.

Petitioning that request was another thing that would have to wait. Soon after they were done Karkat had locked himself away in his office, leaving orders with Kanaya that he was not to be bothered.  _Wonder if that applies to everyone_ , John thought bitterly, remembering Dave’s warning outside the office. His words had stung and if John was honest with himself, they’d stung because they were true. Of course he didn’t know Karkat as well as the others. They’d spent spent years in his company where John had spent weeks. But did that really make his efforts not as valid?

Dark hair sticking up in all directions, dress shirt wrinkled beyond repair, John finally drug himself up the stairs. His feet felt like they were incased in drying cement, the climb slow and arduous with every step. When he reached his room, with every intention of collapsing face first onto the bed, there were two things that prevented it from happening:

Jade’s limp body lying across the floor. And beyond that, three boards, wrenched carelessly from their planks to expose a now empty hollow in the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, it's been a while;;; I finally have some time off from school now that the semester has ended and I've been feeling very nostalgic for Homestuck and good ol' Johnkat. I hope this chapter wasn't too boring to read- it might take a bit to get back into the groove of this story but I'll do my best! Thanks for reading ❤️


	9. My Only Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The doctor is in. John might be on his way out.

“It’s a side effect of narcolepsy,” The doctor says with haughty nonchalance. He claims to be an excellent host, but his bedside manner could use some work. “Or rather, the cataplexy that often accompanies the condition, rendering an autoimmune response due to the lack of orexin being produced by the girl’s hypothalamus.”

Karkat makes an irritated face. He's seated on the edge of the coffee table nearest to the couch where Jade lies fast asleep. " _Meaning?_ "

"Meaning Jade's ability to fall asleep at any given moment was exacerbated by a strong emotional response to unknown stimuli, causing her muscles to give out," Rose translates, carefully lowering herself onto the arm of Jade's makeshift bed.

"I know that," Karkat lies petulantly. He turns back to the doctor. "I mean will she be okay??"

Dressed in white from head to toe with his hands clasped behind his back, Doctor Scratch stands like a shining beacon in the center of the run-down commons room. Surrounded by their threadbare cushions and worn carpet, the old furniture emphasizes the man's immaculate suit and its deliberate, clean lines.

"I'm an expert at my craft, Mr. Vantas. What one would mistake as hubris is years of experience that makes me quite confident of my assessment. Given proper care and rest, Jade should recover within a few days. And so, to the relief of those most concerned, there should be no lasting damage."

"Um.." Stationed by the door, John hesitates. "Will she remember what happened when she wakes up? You know, before she.." he trails off awkwardly.

The doctor studies the newcomer with an unreadable expression. Karkat does too, conscious of the way John's eyes flicker towards him and away again. He looks pale, evidence of their mutually sleepless night written in the dark smudges under his eyes and his slumped shoulders.

"Are you the young man who found her?" It's more of an appraisal than a question, but the tone is lost on John as he nods. "Yes sir. John Crocker."

The doctor ignores the hand offered to him. "I would think Jonathan, that your most pressing concern would be explaining to the authorities why this girl was found incapacitated in your bedroom."

Karkat stiffens. John blinks. "I. What?"

"Forgive the doctor, John," Rose says coldly, her violet eyes trained on Scratch's face. "If my memory is correct, our dear Scratch has found himself on the receiving end of such questions with enough frequency to warrant his... _concern_  for your well being." She folds her hands. "He certainly isn't the type to make baseless accusations without the evidence need to substantiate them. I believe that is what the aforementioned authorities are for."

"Ms. Lalonde, one might think you find fault with the proactive nature of our legal system."

"Don't let Terezi hear you say that," Dave mutters, breaking his silence. After helping John carry Jade into the room, he's been nothing but tense. "Guilty 'til proven innocent."

"It's always easy to find fault with things one does not continuously benefit from," Rose continues. "Perhaps, Doctor, you should ask yourself what benefit there is to gain from voicing your doubts about an employee of our mutual benefactor."

Karkat tears his eyes off of John with alarm. What the fuck was Rose talking about. Benefits and mutual benefactors? The only reason he'd even _called_  Doc Scratch in the first place was because he was Slick's go-to when messy medical emergencies needed to be swept under the rug..

His eyes widen. Runs the words again through Lalonde's particularly nuanced filter. Was-- _was she threatening Scratch?_

"You forget, my dear. In our world information is currency." A lesser man would cower under his opponent's cold stare. "If this boy has committed a crime, the police have a right to know."

" I don't think the police pay nearly as well as Spades Slick does. "

Karkat sneers. "He'll need more than money once Slick cuts him off. Like witness protection. My uncle isn't the type to leave loose ends."

"But there's nothing to tell!!!" John shouts, pushing away from the door. "I already told you, I _found_  her like that! And _you guys_  were the ones who insisted I go outside in the first place!" He glares at each of them in turn. "Jade could have been lying there for _HOURS_! If I'd been inside-- if I'd just gone upstairs instead of--" The words sound bitten and miserable as he trembles.

"We fucked up," Dave admits quietly. "But you found her in time. "

The words only make John cringe harder. He shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut, fists balled up tight. Karkat's never seen him like this before. It feels like he too is falling apart, watching himself splinter from the outside as John does it for the both of them.

He wants to wrap his arms around John. Hates that he has to fight the urge to grab his arm and lead him from the room, take him someplace quiet where he.. _they_  can put themselves back together. He wouldn't even have to consider it if Scratch weren't there, but the last thing Karkat needs is another person giving Slick more reasons to bind his hands.

"You heard him, you quack. He was outside. Not that it's any of your damn business." Karkat grabs the man's medical bag and shoves it at him. "Now get the fuck out of here."

"Well," Doc Scratch speaks in a clipped voice. "Perhaps it would be best to terminate our association for the time being. Allow me to leave you with a word of caution: you'll need to obtain another medical professional sooner than later."

"Why?" Rose asks. "Do you plan on our patient taking a sudden turn for the worse?"

"As Mr. Vantas is well aware of, Miss Harley is not the first friend of his to be placed in my care. It seems Mr. Makara was also in rather high spirits last night."

  
***

  
After seeing the doctor out, Karkat arranges for someone to sit with Jade every few hours. He knows if she were awake she'd protest stubbornly, but she's not and he's partially to blame for that. He's not going to take a chance on her again. Not with a head injury. Not after Scratch's warning.

Rose volunteers for the first shift. Once the others has filed out, it's just the two of them standing over the sleeping girl, silently watching her chest rise and fall. They haven't been alone together since she'd admitted to keeping in regular contact with his uncle-- taken him out to lunch with the promise of an explanation and leaving him with nothing but more questions. It's not an event he's crazy to repeat.

"Wait."

Karkat pauses, one hand on the doorknob. "Yeah?"

"I know you don't trust me, Karkat. You may not even like me, although you tolerate my presence as Dave's sister and Kanaya's lover. But you can't bring him back here."

"You think I can't?"

"You shouldn't try."

He can feel his hackles rise. "So I'm supposed to cut him off, just like that. Leave him on the streets. This is his _home_ , Lalonde. He has nowhere else to go."

"He's a liability that needs more help than you can offer him."

"Your lack of confidence is truly stunning. Got anymore pearls of wisdom while you're feeling generous? Gee, _th_ _ank_  you Rose, but we don't abandon people when they fuck up like some kind of wicker basket nunnery baby!" Karkat sputters. "We take care of them! It's why Vriska's still here. It's why _you're_  still here!"

Rose lifts an index finger to silence him, eyes sliding to Jade and back. "Have you considered that being here could be his problem?"

Karkat knows he doesn't hate Rose: she's shrewd and beautiful and there are moments where she's incredible to be around. Moments that no longer require her to be three sheets to the wind, stumbling her way down the hall in an attempt to chase her demons before they chase her.

Apparently the flip-side of sobriety affords you enough clarity to know which tender spots to jab.

“Look. I know I'm a walking disaster. I bring people into the excrement that is my life and no one escapes without a shit stain. Maybe I’m a selfish needy dickbag trussing up co-dependency as some munificent savior complex. But I’m not asking your permission— I owe it to him to try."

When Karkat makes his second attempt to leave, Rose doesn't stop him.

  
***

  
By now it's mid-morning and Karkat is desperate for a nap and a shower. He’s bone tired, physical and emotional exhaustion sinking beneath the skin until he’s almost giddy with it.

Equius will need some petty cash to buy the new panes for the windows. The lineup for their next show needs to be revised to fill in the gaps. Fall is usually their roughest time of year and the theatre can't afford to be closed more than a day or two before feeling the strain (with or without Slick breathing down their collective necks). After that, the furniture in his office needs to be replaced, the locks changed, then a new set of keys to go with the new locks-- all on top of enforcing rehearsals to ensure their anxiety doesn’t wane into lethargy.

The auditorium is in the opposite direction of his bedroom and predictably empty when Karkat enters. His footsteps echo off the cavernous walls and arching pillars as he walks the length of the aisle into the orchestra pit. John sits listlessly at the piano, staring at the keys.

Karkat tentatively lowers himself onto the bench beside him. According to his favorite romance novels and the few talking pictures he's managed to see, this is the part where they sit in companionable silence, the hero opens himself up emotionally, and his lover is spurred to action through his inspirational, yet heart-rending speech.

“Took you long enough,” John says with a wry look.

"Must have lost my invitation to the pity party."

“Not cool. I personalized it and everything. I know how much you live for these shindigs." John's words trail off as his eyes return to the instrument in front of him. He lifts his left hand, fingers hovering only to pull them back just as quickly.

“This is dumb.” John laughs sadly. “You know what I did? When I found Jade and realized the grist was gone?” Karkat shakes his head. "I checked under my pillow for my Dad's letter. I tried to wake Jade and the whole time I was shaking her, I thought ‘ _If I'd only read his letter, this wouldn't have happened_.’ Like fatherly words of wisdom? Now it's gone."

Karkat looks down. Studies the gash on the back of his hand. It hurts when he flexes it. "There'll be more letters. Your Dad's still alive, dumbass. You can go home any time you want."

“..What if I don't want to?"

Karkat's pulse jumps. _He doesn't mean it like that._  “Why would you stay? There’s no guarantee shit will ever stop hitting the fan around here.”  
  
“Heh. That’s true.” John leans back and turns his eyes to the ceiling. “But I like it. It’s exciting. Being with Dave, Jade, and Rose under one roof again feels like it was meant to be.” His smile softens. “Just like when I met you.”

“Cornball. Don’t say stuff like that.” Karkat’s heart is going to beat its way out of his chest. “Not if you’re not going to kiss me again.”

“Come on, haha. You’re a guy. That’d be pretty gay.” John looks down at him again, laughter fading when the other says nothing. “Are. Are you gay, Karkat?”

“Yeah. So? Does that bother you?” He asks, defensive. “Gonna run now that you know?”

John studies his face for a long moment and Karkat does his best not to shiver. Blue eyes. Almost hypnotic with intensity. He fails horribly.

“No. Jerk.” John adds, as an afterthought.

“Good. Because you kissed me first.”

John leans down and presses another kiss to the top of Karkat’s head, leaning into him when he ducks away. “How’dja suppose I break my old man’s heart?” He narrowly avoids a swift kick when Karkat growls.

“Pick up a goddamn telephone! Send him a telegram! Hire a sky writer if it'll get your head out of your ass!!”

John bumps his elbow. "Wanna hire one for me? I'm a little broke now."

In response, Karkat sighs. “Level with me. What _exactly_  are you trying to prove to your old man anyway? You're not out to hurt him. You're not trying to fuck him over. Does _he_  need money?"

"No. It's-" John worries his lip with his teeth. Shrugs. "It's a pride thing, I guess? He did something a long time ago. And now I'm doing something about it because I want to prove something to myself."

"Something about something to prove something," Karkat repeats skeptically. When John doesn't elaborate he scowls. "You know, being vague doesn't make you mysterious, it makes you a pill.”

"I couldn't help Jade. I couldn't help that old man. I couldn't help you."

"But you _tried_. Besides, if you really feel that way about it, just work harder. We’ve got plenty of shows lined up. We can make ends meet our own way."

After a beat of reasonable silence, “What about you?"

“Me?"

"Yeah," John insists. “You holding up okay? We've been talking about me this whole time. Did you find what you were looking for in your office?"

That was a tricky question. He and Dave had spent the better part of early morning on their hands and knees, searching for was left of Karkat's private journal only to learn the most important pages were missing entirely. Of course, he hadn't told anyone. Somehow he knew, more than the grist and more than the deed to the building, the leather bound book was what the thieves had been looking for.

“Pretty much,” Karkat says vaguely. “I have a good idea of where it is." _Like in the hands of whoever’d do the most damage with it._

“Good. So what do we do about your plan to buy the place from Slick?"

Karkat shakes his head. "I was never going to use that grist, John. I don't want to owe my Uncle or anyone. Not like that. I have my pride too."

Lying between them on the piano bench, someone clamps a warm hand over the other. John weighs his words. When he speaks again, they're unusually shy. "I just want to help you like you've helped me."

Karkat tells himself it’s because he doesn't want to be alone for what he has to do next, and not because he is the master of letting his heart make bad decisions, that he accepts the offer. He gives John’s hand one last squeeze and rises from the bench.

"You still can."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever have a chapter written for a long time and just. Revise and revise and revise until almost an entire month has gone by because you are a silly goose and overanalyze everything? No? Just me? That's cool.
> 
> Come talk to me about Johnkat, Ace Attorney, Fire Emblem, and Gay Volleyball on my [fandom twitter account](http://www.twitter.com/auspistice). Or, if poked, I will awaken the ancient ghost of my [tumblr](http://fictional.tumblr.com).

**Author's Note:**

> Whoa, you made it down here. Thanks for reading. This story is an attempt to bully myself into writing more. I'm excited about what I've plotted out so far. I can't seem to quit this fandom (or this pairing), so I'm going to try my best ❤


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